The Reveal
by Kasienda
Summary: Series of one-shots and drabbles all centered around The Reveal Moment. Identities will be revealed, feelings will be confessed, and secrets will be discovered through contrived situations, meddling friends, and moments of true connection. Usa/Mamo centered, but will probably not remain exclusive to them.
1. Theme 1: Admiration

Theme 1: Admiration  
Title: Unintended Confessions

"Hello Usagi-chan!" the blond part timer greeted as Tsukino Usagi took her usual stool. She purposely ignored the tall dark haired baka that loved to torment her that sat in the adjacent stool. "What can I get you? Your usual?"

"Actually Motoki-oniisan, I was hoping you would let me interview you today. It's just one question for a school project!" she explained.

"A school project huh? I would love to help you out Usagi-chan! What's the question?"

"Who do you admire most in the world?"

Her seat partner snorted with clear derision.

"No comments from the peanut gallery Mamoru-baka," the blond hissed. "I don't need your jaded cynicism contaminating my project!"

She glared at him for a moment. His cobalt blue eyes danced in superior amusement, but he remained silent, only glancing away from the textbook he was reading to take a sip of coffee.

Reassured of the baka's continued respect for her interview, she turned her eyes back up to the arcade worker who was eyeing the two of them, no doubt waiting for the shouting match to start. 

"Motoki-oniisan, you were about to tell me who you admire most in the world," she said graciously, waving for him to speak.

"That's actually a tough question Usagi-chan," Motoki admitted, his eyes turning toward the ceiling in search of inspiration.

She waited patiently with her pencil down on a blank sheet of paper in her notebook, ready to scribble down frantic notes. 

"Probably my mom," he admitted.

"Awww," Usagi gushed. "Tell me why!" she directed eagerly.

He laughed at her enthusiasm. "She's something of a renaissance woman! My dad wanted to create this chain of restaurants – he wanted something for everyone, he said. So, we own a fast food stop, a five-star restaurant, a few hole-in-the-wall sushi restaurants, and even an arcade," he gestured to the space around them."

"I didn't realize your family owned this place!" she exclaimed. "Now, I'm going to have to make your parents a card of appreciation for making life so much more enjoyable."

"That's sweet Usagi-chan! I'm sure they'd get a kick out of that. Anyway, my dad, he had no idea all the different things that he would have to learn to run such a variety of places. It was our mother who made it all work.

"She did the research, trained various employees in trades she was just learning herself, she learned to sew to make curtains and table clothes, and upholstery for cushions. She was on the cutting edge of gaming. And she did this during a time when women were expected to stay home and take care of the household and children. She somehow managed all of that at once.

"And she did it out of love and support, never expecting anything in return. Honestly, dad still doesn't really understand how she is the one that made him a success. I mean he loves her, but he doesn't get it. Without her, he never would have gotten past that first place."

Usagi's hand flew across the page as she was trying to capture every detail that Motoki shared with her.

"Thank you Motoki-oniisan!" Usagi squealed. "This is perfect! Now, I only have to find three more people to interview."

"Glad to help Usagi-chan," he quipped. "Let me know if you want anything to eat!"

"Sure thing! Thanks Motoki-oniisan," her noise to the notebook as she continued to write. She sat staring at her notes, immensely pleased with how well all her interviews had gone so far. She just needed to find a few more people and then figure out how to organize it all for her presentation. 

"Aren't you going to ask me?" Mamoru asked casually, still pouring over his textbook.

"Wasn't planning on it," she shot back.

He shrugged and continued to drink his coffee.

She continued to sketch out plans for her presentation – she chewed on the end of her pencil, contemplating including a picture of each person she interviewed. She glanced at Mamoru out of the corner of her eye. He didn't seem to notice her at all, which she found irritating for some incomprehensible reason.

With a groan of frustration, she turned her head in the other direction, and continued to work. Or at least she tried to, but suddenly she couldn't concentrate, only too aware that her sometime nemesis had practically volunteered, and she couldn't deny that she was curious what type of person could earn the admiration of the somewhat discriminating upper classmen.

"Fine!" she exclaimed dramatically and turned to him. He grinned superiorly, but continued to ignore her.

"Mamoru-baka, who is the person you admire most in the world?"

"Sailor Moon," he answered without hesitation. His eyes still never leaving his textbook.

She nearly fell backwards off her stool in shock.

" _Really_?" she exclaimed gleefully, wishing she could tell him _exactly_ who his hero was. "I never pegged you as some fan boy."

He scowled at the description. "I am _not_ some fan boy," he stated coldly.

"Prove it!" she challenged, trying to hide her own desperation at needing to hear his answer.

He said nothing. She could not handle his silence, she needed him to keep talking about this.

"See! You probably just like a girl in a miniskirt same as any other hot-blooded male."

The pencil he was holding snapped and he turned furious eyes toward her.

She leaned away, suddenly afraid of the anger in his eyes.

"It was just a question," she said lightly, trying to dismiss her antagonizing comment. She had wanted to know why, but angry Mamoru was _scary_ – not at all worth it.

But she bit her lip trying to suppress her pleased grin. _Seriously_ , if only he knew!

"What is so funny?" he demanded.

"Just imagining you trying to talk to Sailor Moon," she improvised on the spot.

He sighed. "You're never going to let this go, are you?"

"Probably not," she admitted.

He sighed again. "Look it's not about her looks, though she is definitely attractive. So many people want to be Sailor Moon, but she doesn't. And even though she wants nothing to do with it, she does it anyway."

"What do you mean?" she asked quietly, stuck by his accurate insight.

"Imagine having to face monster after monster that send you careening into a tree or trap you inside some kind of grey sludge. That at any moment, you could die with one careless mistake. And then _choosing_ to fight anyway – _choosing_ to protect others that have no idea that they even need to be protected, just because you have an ability that no one else has. Even though you never asked for it – never wanted it."

She listened intently, entranced by his eyes that swirled with unrestricted passion that he usually never expressed, at least not openly. She watched as his hands swung emphatically emphasizing his points.

"What about the other Sailor Senshi?" she couldn't help but ask.

He shook his head. "The rest of them… they enjoy it – they are more at peace when they are fighting – like they have connected with their true selves. They would not choose any differently. Sailor Moon though, she _hates_ it! But she does it anyway. She's truly the bravest and most selfless of them all. And I admire her for it."

"How do you know all of this?" she whispered.

"I saw her once a week or two back," he began vaguely. "There was a creature at the park, a big thundering bloke. It was charging towards Sailor Mercury who had her nose in her little computer device doing whatever analysis that she does. And Sailor Moon intercepted its path and took the blow. It wasn't that she couldn't get out of the way in time, she chose to take the hit because that's what she had to do. _Then_ , within seconds, she was on her feet again, quaking in pain or fear – I can't know for sure, but she faced the monster _again_ even when I suspect she wanted to be just about anywhere else."

She was confused at first. He described the battle perfectly. She remembered the encounter he was referring to. But she knew there had been no civilians at that battle. Only the youma, the other senshi, and Tuxedo Kamen.

 _Oh my god._

She stared at him in shock, suddenly able to imagine the domino mask over his eyes all too clearly.

She watched him as he worked, grateful that he had stayed so focused on his assignment that he had completely missed her revelation and shock, which had most certainly been written on her forehead for the world to see.

"You should ask me now," she said softly.

"Ask you what?"

"Who I admire most in the world."

He sighed, but turned toward her anyway. "Who do you admire most in the world?" he asked flatly as if knowing she would pester him for eternity if he didn't play her game.

"Tuxedo Kamen."

He smirked superiorly, "Why does that not surprise me?" he commented dryly.

"Now ask me why." 

"Why?" he asked with seeming indifference, but he turned towards her with just slight glint in his eyes. Really, that was the equivalent of the ever-stoic Chiba Mamoru sitting on the very edge of his seat, she was almost certain.

"He's incredibly reliable," she started carefully. "He always manages to show up a just the right moment. And he's incredibly encouraging. Even when Sailor Moon is in a situation that appears hopeless, his faith in her never waivers," she described slowly, carefully watching the minute expressions on his stoic face. His lips seemed to tick upwards a time or two, as if they wanted to smile, but he controlled them. He had a much better poker face than she, and the blond heroine felt herself doubt for just a second, but she forced herself to continue anyway. If she was wrong, it's not like he would understand what she was getting at.

"The other senshi can be harsh and critical, and I think Sailor Moon knows that they mean well – that they want her to grow and become stronger, but he is the best at telling her the words she truly needs to hear in order to actually pull off impossible feats."

"That sounds too fantastical to be true," he commented skeptically. "Have you even met Tuxedo Kamen?" 

She was not fooled this time – she could see in his eyes cloud in confusion at her description. Or maybe it was wonderment. But suddenly, she was certain.

"There was one battle in particular that happened… like a week or two ago?" she said, intentionally echoing his earlier words.

He raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"Sailor Moon had fallen to the ground after being trampled by this gargantuan beast. She had just picked herself up, when the thing struck again. She saw it coming, but she was just so tired and overwhelmed. She didn't move fast enough. She was hysterically sobbing at not being able to react, when Tuxedo Kamen arrived and swept her out of the way. They landed in a tree. The ancient camphor tree near the lake. And he set her gently down and told her that he was impressed with her ability to protect her comrades – that she could take the youma if only she stayed focused. And most importantly, that he would be right behind her if anything went awry."

She watched as his eyes widened as he stared at her in disbelief. His mouth opened as if to speak, but he closed them quickly again with a slight shake of his head. Suddenly he offered her a slight smile, and she found herself grinning coyly at him lost in his ocean-blue gaze that never faltered. She glanced down at her hands feeling the heat in her cheeks, shy and uncertain how to continue.

His fingers were on her chin, urging her eyes back up to his.

"Usako," he whispered.

She shivered.

"I never realized," he continued softly. "I'm so…"

"Shh!" she interrupted harshly with a hand to his mouth. "I don't want to hear any apologies Mamoru-baka!"

"You don't?"

Before she could explain that he and their daily collisions and teasing spats were one of the few things that could truly distract her from her paranormal responsibilities, before she could explain that he made her feel like she was a normal girl with ordinary problems, and before she could confess that she had always secretly enjoyed their encounters, her communicator went off.

She jumped, startled. Then she almost laughed. "That means there's a youma," she whispered conspiratorially as she rose to her feet. "You coming?"

His contemplative solemn expression transformed into a dazzling smile that she rarely provoked from him. "I will be right behind you," he promised.


	2. Theme 2: Listening

Theme 1: Listening  
Title: Why Won't You Listen?

"Detention run late today Odango?" the black-haired college student greeted as the blond teenager took her regular stool beside him.

"I have a name Mamoru-baka! I know you have ears and I know you have heard my name! Learn it!" she snapped back.

He smirked at her from behind his coffee. Before he could retort though, the glass behind them shattered, punctuated by the screams of the adolescents too close to the youma that thundered through its newly created unconventional doorway. He reflexively pulled the blond beside him down behind the counter protectively.

The middle school students near the windows were not so fortunate as they wilted in their seats hit by the hypnotic power of the beast.

"Odango," he whispered urgently. "Head into the back room." He wanted her to be safe more than anything, but he also wanted her to be gone so he could transform.

"Mamoru-baka, _you_ should go call for help," she whispered back urgently.

" _Usagi-chan_!" he growled. "Go! _I_ will hold it off!"

"Oh, so you _do_ know my name," she interjected absently, her attention on the monster stomping about the arcade.

He wanted to pull his hair out in frustration. Of course, she would choose to focus on a mundane detail of what he chose to call her when their lives were in danger.

Then she stood up and seized the coffee mug he had been drinking from moments before and threw it at the monster. It struck the beast right on its slitted yellow eye and it swung its attention toward the blond at his side.

He blinked in surprise, impressed with both her arm and her aim. But it was still an incredibly stupid thing to do. "Odango! What are you _thinking_?" he demanded, trying to pull her back down, but she had somehow gotten several strides away from him in less than a second. 

"Oy! Baka-domo!" she screeched as the thing thudded toward her angrily. "Leave them alone!" She released a high-pitched scream as the youma released half a dozen projectiles at her.

Mamoru barely managed to body slam her out of the way in time.

"Why do you _never_ _listen_?" he barked in frustration. "You are no match for that thing. You're going to get yourself killed!"

"You never give me enough credit!" she objected, jumping back to her feet. "Someone has to do _something_ before that thing kills those kids!"

He glanced into the corner at the youma's would be victims. The whole lot of them were frozen and immobile – limp in their seats.

"They might already be dead," he observed coldly. "If it's all the same to you, I'd rather not add our names to the list."

But again, she wasn't listening, her attention on the beast. He watched her perform an impossible kick and something about it seemed incredibly familiar, but he didn't have the mental space to give it the attention it needed.

She actually managed to beat the unnatural colossal creature backwards, but she was just a girl and he knew the tide would turn. He had to get her out of there before it happened.

It took less than a second. She was across the room, he could not get to her fast enough. The youma had once again sent several unidentifiable projectiles flying unerringly straight for her. Without thought or hesitation, he flicked his wrist several times with the practiced ease of a super hero vigilante. The roses flew true with their impossibly sharp stems first to strike the unwanted missiles mid-air.

Her eyes landed on the rose and she whirled to him in shock.

" _I_ can take care of this," he insisted allowing himself to transform into the familiar tuxedo that he wore as battle armor. " _You_ need to get out of here!"

Her shock vanished and she _smirked_ at him. "I'm not leaving you here alone baka."

"Usagi-chan!" he growled in frustration as he leapt at the beast with his cane. He could _not_ believe her stubbornness.

"Moon prism power!" 

He felt he had just been struck by lightning, and stood frozen in shock as she was enveloped by ribbons and light, transforming into the blond heroine he thought he knew intimately well.

With her new-found power, she made quick work of the beast with her tiara, and then she turned to check on the victims. He assumed by her sigh of relief that they were fine, and just unconscious. Then she whirled towards him with a grin.

"So… you're…" she began.

He nodded. "And you…"

"I _am_!" she responded cheekily. "So, what now?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "Things would be a lot simpler right now if you had just gone for help when I asked you to."

"This is better," she said, her eyes met his shyly.

"Is it? I thought you hated me," he whispered, dropping his gaze to his gloved hands feeling exposed and vulnerable.

"Mamo-chan," she urged his eyes back up and he grinned at her new version of his name. "I have never hated you. Quite the opposite actually. I only participated in our verbal spats every day because I thought _you_ hated _me_!"

"Could anyone hate you Usako? I don't think it's possible,"

"I guess we are both bakas then," she quipped back.

He didn't know what to say to that, and he didn't know what to do next. Apparently, she didn't either as they both just stood there staring at one another in their alter egos.

"Usako is _way_ better than Odango Atama, by the way," she said, finally breaking the silence.

He stared at her incredulous, then they both burst into laughter.


	3. Theme 3: Matchmaking

This one got away from me a bit into something more than a drabble, and while it's still as contrived as ever, it's almost a full and complete story in and of itself! Hope you enjoy it!

 **Theme: Matchmaker  
** **Title: Motoki the Meddler**

 **The Problem:**

The blond part-timer forced himself to continue drying the row of glasses when really he wanted to throttle both his supposed best friend and favorite customer. He didn't understand it! They were both reasonable, polite, and generous people! They had entertaining stories to share and personality quirks that kept him entertained and delighted to know them both. But put them together and they were like kerosene and matches!

The shouting had intensified and Motoki wanted to throw things in frustration. He carefully set the current glass down before he did anything rash and turned toward the arguing duo. These two needed to learn to get along or he would not tolerate their presence in his establishment.

He opened his mouth to deliver his ultimatum, when Usagi suddenly harrumphed, and whirled away with her blond streamers fluttering in her wake. This wasn't particularly noteworthy – the normal ending to a routine, if volatile, argument. What sent Motoki's jaw to the floor, was that Mamoru watched her go with a slight smile and a glassy – perhaps longing - quality to his eyes as if his friend was moved beyond words by his occasional blond nemesis.

It lasted only a few seconds. Motoki would have no doubt missed it, had he not intended to throw himself in the middle of their altercation. Before the arcade worker could double check, his raven-haired friend had turned back to his coffee and textbook silently as if he hadn't just been screaming two inches from Usagi's face.

And just as he sat down, Motoki caught the movement out of the corner of his eye. Usagi's confident angry strut had softened as the girl turned back towards the upperclassman with a look that Motoki could only describe as wistful, or maybe even regretful. _  
_

"You okay, Motoki-kun?" Mamoru asked him, his cobalt gaze on the steaming mug of coffee. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"How long has this been going on?" Motoki countered, not able to disguise the shock in his voice.

"How long has what been going on?"

"You having feelings for Usagi!" the blond employee whispered harshly.

Mamoru took a huge gulp of his hazelnut-mocha, no doubt to stall for time.

"She's way too young," Mamoru said easily.

Motoki let out a sigh of relief that at least his friend wasn't outright denying it.

"It would make _everyone's_ life far easier if you just told her how you felt," Motoki insisted, ignoring the other boy's objection.

Midnight blue orbs pierced his own for a time as if measuring him.

"It wouldn't make _her_ life easier. Or mine, for that matter."

"What are you talking about Mamoru-kun?" Motoki asked flatly, striving for patience. He was all too aware that Mamoru's analytical mind had a tendency to over complicate things, especially things involving emotions.

"I mean, it could put her life in danger."

"What the hell does that mean?" the part-timer spluttered.

"Nevermind."

"I don't think so Mamoru-kun. If you make a statement like that… I mean, am _I_ in danger being in your life?"

When his absolute closest friend and most trusted confidant grimaced, Motoki felt his blood pressure rise.

"Shit dude," was all the blond could think of to say, "Now you _have_ to tell me."

His friend shook his head. "Knowing only amplifies the danger. Your ignorance makes it harder for you to be used against me."

Motoki stared at him in shock. Mamoru was actually serious. This wasn't just some tall tale to get his busy body of a friend to stop pestering him about Usagi.

"Do you realize that you're putting me at risk and I don't even know what it's for? That's not fair."

There was a long pause where Mamoru considered him seriously over the red counter top that separated them.

"You're right. I'm sorry Motoki-kun," Mamoru finally said, his deep blue eyes swirling with carefully controlled emotion. "I will keep my distance. We can start some rumors about a falling out or something and then you will be safe." The upper classman had already started packing up his homework.

Motoki's chest started pounding even harder with sudden panic.

"What are you doing Mamoru-kun? You can't just leave!"

"But you're correct. I have been unfair."

"I appreciate your willingness to go to such lengths, but this is a terrible idea! You need me!"

"If it's what needs to be done…" Mamoru insisted as he ran a hand through his hair in frustration.

"Look, why don't you just tell me whatever this is, and then _I_ can decide if I am willing to take the risk or not. Then we can go through with your scheme if _I_ deem it necessary."

Short of Mamoru being some kind of drug dealer or secret assassin, which Motoki doubted, he had no intention of exiling the orphan out of his life. That was _not_ what friends did!

Mamoru placed a few bills on the counter. "I'll swing by later. Say eleven?"

Motoki nodded in agreement, and Mamoru departed toward the glowing red exit sign.

Motoki did not miss his friend's glance towards a certain blond teenage girl before he slipped through the automatic doors.

 **Mamoru's Confession**

Motoki glanced at his watch – Mamoru was running late. By only a few minutes and if it was anyone else Motoki would not have worried, but Mamoru was obsessively prompt. He sometimes disappeared without warning, but he never just didn't show up. His friend better not have flaked out on him.

A few more minutes went by, and the blond opened his door and glanced down the corridor, half suspecting to catch his stoic friend standing outside the door just refusing to knock, but the hallway was deserted. Motoki swept back in with a sigh and settled onto his couch trying not to feel frustrated that his best friend felt he couldn't trust him.

A thud just outside his window startled him from his thoughts. His eyebrows furrowed in puzzlement. He was ten stories up – only birds could reach his balcony from the outside, and that sound indicated something far larger than a swallow.

He threw open the sliding glass door to the balcony and to be met with his expected guest.

"Mamoru?! How the hell did you get up here?"

"I have my ways," he said mysteriously.

Motoki felt his blood pressure spike – what if Mamoru _was_ some kind of a ninja assassin?

He smothered his questions and uncertainty – Mamoru was there, which meant he would soon get some answers. He would not have come if he didn't intend to divulge his secret.

"Last chance to back out?" his coal-black haired classmate offered quite seriously.

"You pull a stunt like that," Motoki gestured toward the tiny balcony of his apartment, "and expect me to just drop the issue?"

Mamoru did not laugh as Motoki expected, but remained distantly cold. The blond sighed, and made himself comfortable once again on the couch, figuring he would need to sit down for this news. He looked at his friend expectantly.

"Well?" he prompted when Mamoru stayed silent.

"It's not that easy to just blurt out."

"Take your time," Motoki allowed. "But you're not leaving until you spill."

Silence reigned. Motoki watched patiently as Mamoru fidgeted, clutching the throw blanket Reika had gifted him to color the place up in his fist, only to release it and collect himself. He opened his mouth to speak, only to close it again. His friend's nervousness would have been highly entertaining, if Motoki hadn't been so stressed about what Mamoru intended to share.

"You're not part of the yakuza are you?" Motoki guessed, only half in jest.

"What?! No!"

"Well then, it can't be that bad!"

"When you put it like that, I suppose I'm being rather ridiculous."

Motoki nodded in agreement, though he had no clue what was actually going on.

"I'm Tuxedo Kamen."

The blond didn't speak at first. But when the information registered, he found himself smiling.

"What? _Really_? The vigilante that runs around in formal wear tossing roses around?"

"Yes."

"You're serious," Motoki realized, trying to wipe away his grin. He didn't quite manage it. Mamoru, who seemed to the foreswear any female attention to the point where some of their peers suspected he had other inclinations, presented himself as the absolute epitome of the mysterious romantic.

"The one all the girls in the city swoon endlessly over?"

"Unfortunately," the other man said with a long-suffering sigh.

The resignation in his voice convinced Motoki more than anything else, but he wasn't about to let his friend off the hook that easily.

"Prove it."

Mamoru smirked, held out his hand, and out of thin air he manifested a rose. And a second later he was dressed in the tuxedo complete with top hat and domino mask.

Motoki forgot how to breathe, never expecting the light show.

"Woah! How do you do that? What happens to the clothes you were wearing? And where does the tuxedo go when you're not wearing it? Doesn't this break some conservation law or something? Why a tuxedo anyway? Don't you find the formal getup restricting? I would think you would prefer something that has far more ease of motion," Motoki spouted off his questions rapidly. Then he realized he wasn't giving Mamoru any chance to actually answer the questions, and forced himself to fall into silence, grinning in anticipation at the inside scoop he was about to receive.

"That's it?" the masked vigilante asked him in shock.

"What's it?" the blond repeated, confused.

" _That's_ your reaction?"

"Well, what'd you expect man? You're still Mamoru! And you're not out there getting kids addicted to heroin or assassinating mob bosses in their bed. You're trying to protect the city from things that, in my mind, shouldn't exist! I'm not going to abandon you over that!"

Mamoru looked like he had been hit with a train. Motoki tried not to be irritated, knowing that, as an orphan and a product of the foster system, his oldest friend had no expectations for people sticking around when things got difficult.

"And my morbid curiosity still stands! How many opportunities does one normally get to interview a super hero?"

Mamoru laughed and let the outfit fade. "I don't really know how I transform – I just will it to happen," he said.

"When did you learn to do this?"

"I learned it in my dreams. At first, I wasn't conscious of the change. I was experiencing black outs, and I'd wake up with soreness or random injuries."

"Terrifying! How could you keep that to yourself?"

"I was terrified to tell anyone! I thought I was going insane. But with flashes of memories and news reports, I was able to piece together what was happening. And once I knew, suddenly there was no division between my dual personas."

"Doesn't it feel good to talk about this?" Motoki questioned brightly.

"You know, it does," Mamoru conceded with a small smile of his own.

"You should have told me ages ago!"

His friend laughed. Motoki considered that invitation enough to ask more questions.

…

 **Usagi's Slip  
**

Motoki clocked in at six in the morning and tied his apron around his neck feeling sluggish with mental fog and aching joints. It having been ages, since Motoki had even attempted to pull an all nighter, his body did not fair well from the abuse. But talking to Mamoru with all his defenses down was such a rarity that Motoki was not to going to end the conversation prematurely. It might have even gone longer if Tuxedo Kamen's services hadn't been suddenly and urgently needed.

And then of course Motoki couldn't sleep – too worried about the impossible dangers his friend had to face.

Mamoru was nothing if not considerate though – a quick phone call an hour later confirmed that all was well. Sailor Moon was safe, as was all of Tokyo. For now, at least.

With his anxiety vaporized away, he found himself grinning in spite of his physical fatigue. Somehow being in on the secret, made him feel even closer to his childhood friend. Made him feel more trusted and valued as a friend, and he was determined more than ever to live up to that trust.

He wandered onto the café floor to do some leisurely tidying before the morning crowd came in, grateful that Unazaki had been nice enough to open up shop for him when he had called. There was a handful of singles at various booths enjoying coffee and perusing newspapers.

He jumped in surprise at the slight teenage girl sitting on her regular stool slumped down over the counter – her usual bright face buried in her arms and tresses of golden locks.

He watched her for a moment, as she spun the stool ever so slightly to one side and then back again, as if to comfort herself with the rocking.

"Usagi-chan!" he greeted in surprise. "What on earth are you doing out of bed at this hour!"

"My cat woke me up a few hours ago – she doesn't understand the value of a full night's rest," she whined into the cold counter. "And then I couldn't go back to sleep."

She slowly brought her head up, and rested her chin onto her hand and gave him a sleepy smile. She had bags under her eyes and a dark ugly bruise on her hand – she looked truly exhausted, like her very soul was wearing and pulling her down.

"That's awful Usagi-chan. Sometimes, I think operating on interrupted sleep is worse than having none at all," he empathized.

"Why does no one else understand that?" she asked rhetorically of the air around her.

He laughed. "What can I get you? It seems too cold and too early for a chocolate shake."

"A hot chocolate would be greatly appreciated," she admitted, her smile suddenly seeming just a bit more genuine.

But as he moved away to satisfy her order, her expression of mirth slid away, replaced by what he could only describe as a sad melancholy that went beyond simple fatigue.

He returned with her steaming frothy hot chocolate and settled himself across from her from the other side of the counter. "What's actually bothering you Usagi-chan?"

She considered him for a moment not making a move towards the mug of chocolately drink. "Do you ever wish your life could be different?"

"Different in what way?"

"Just… _different_ ," she said with a shrug. "Don't worry about me Motoki-oniisan," she suddenly said with false brightness. "I'm sure it's just a phase. It'll get better."

He stared at her stoically for a moment, disturbed at how quickly she had dismissed her own feelings as irrelevant.

"If you're unhappy with your life Usagi-chan, you're the only one that can do anything about it."

She barked an ugly cynical laugh. One he expected more from his moody best friend than the usually carefree bubbly blond.

"You want to talk about it?" he offered.

"I can't," she admitted.

"I won't pry Usagi-chan," he promised. "But if you ever want to talk, my ears are yours."

"Thanks Motoki-oniisan."

He winked at her and departed, but he continued to watch her. She slipped slowly at her morning treat instead of inhaling it as if it would disappear if she didn't get it into her stomach fast enough. She sighed every few minutes between glances at the clock, or let her head fall back into a puddle on the counter.

"Odango Atama! Fancy seeing you in the flesh at this hour," Mamoru greeted mockingly as he slid into the stool beside her. Motoki glared at his friend, but the other man didn't even glance his way – all his attention focused solely on the girl at his side. "Does this mean I won't have an odango shaped bruise on my chest for once?"

"Don't try too hard to hide your disappointment Mamoru-baka," the teenager whipped back sarcastically, her lack of sleep not slowing her comeback at all. "I am certain that running into me, is probably the highlight of your day."

"Highlight of my day?" he repeated with superior smugness. "You sure do think highly of yourself. You would just love that, wouldn't you? Me planning out my morning routine just to be _absolutely_ sure that you barrel into me, and leave me a set of bruised ribs. But I've got news for you Odango – my world does not, believe it or not, revolve around you."

Motoki suppressed a snort. Mamoru probably _did_ plan his morning routine around Usagi's schedule. He quickly delivered a cup of coffee and an accompanying glare to his friend, who ignored him completely.

"You only wish that it did," Usagi shot back.

"In your dreams Odango," was the dry reply.

Motoki sighed, wishing that both of them would at least stop disguising their flirting as bickering. Even with his new context of Mamoru's complicated life, this situation – the unconfessed, but definitely undeniable, attraction between these two – just frustrated him.

His thoughts were interrupted by the solid impact of a coffee cup on the counter. "Thanks for the coffee Motoki-kun!" he said as he waved good bye. "Odango, always good to escape your presence without any injuries," he added with a superior smirk that drove Motoki to frustration. He could only imagine how Usagi ever put up with him at all when he was in this insufferable mode.

"Bye Mamoru-baka!" she chirped back with the brightest smile he had seen from her all morning. "The day's not over! Perhaps I'll find a way to give you a few bruises yet!"

Watching Usagi grinning in genuine delight when she had been moping through her morning before made the part-timer realize even more profoundly that both, Mamoru and Usagi, needed something else from their lives, something he suspected they could provide for one another.

But Mamoru, capable of impersonating an unmoving concrete wall in his stubbornness once he had come to a decision about something, was not about to listen to him.

But perhaps the blue-eyed blond that sat across the counter he was cleaning would be more open and receptive to what he had to say.

"Why don't you just tell him how you feel?" he asked playfully. "It would make it so much easier on everyone! But especially me."

"I shouldn't," she confided immediately, to his surprise. "I think he feels the same, but I can't."

He was even more shocked at her insight.

"You know how he feels? But then, why not go for it?"

"I just can't. He doesn't understand me. Not really."

"You could teach him."

"Plus, it would put him in danger."

Motoki smothered a laugh at that answer. "Mamoru can handle himself. Trust me," he reassured.

"This is different," she insisted seriously.

He stopped cleaning and considered her carefully for a minute this whole conversation feeling just a bit too familiar. How ironic would it be if Usagi was Sailor Moon?

He almost laughed - the thought seemed inconceivable. But then he glanced at her profile and he suddenly could see it. Her blond hair done up in buns and ponytails, her blue eyes, heart shaped face, and a fit lithe form. If Usagi were to put on the red boots, the blue fuku, and the jewels in her hair she would look exactly like Sailor Moon. It was almost astonishing he had never seen the resemblance before.

And hadn't she just been wishing for a different life?

"Motoki-oniisan, are you okay? You look like you were just hit by a truck," she observed as she finished her hot chocolate.

He leaned forward. "I _feel_ like I've been hit by a truck," he admitted in a whisper. "You're Sailor Moon."

Her eyes widened in fear and panic. She quickly recovered and plastered on a look of incredulity, but it was too late.

"What are you talking about Motoki-oniisan?! That's _ridiculous_! You think a klutz like me…?"

"Yeah," he interrupted. "And I'm pretty certain now, so you might want to keep your voice down," he suggested quietly with arched eyebrows.

"Motoki-oniisan! You _can't_ tell anyone!" she whispered urgently. "Even knowing puts you in danger!"

He smiled widely. "I get it. I promise I won't tell anyone."

But there was no way in hell he wasn't using this information to his advantage.

"And please don't tell Mamoru how I feel," she added.

He nodded in agreement. "Usagi-chan, _that_ should come from you."

"I wish I could, but now you understand why it can never be."

"He's stronger than you're giving him credit for. I think he could handle it," he couldn't help but adding. He knew it wouldn't be enough. They were going to take more work. Maybe Reika could help him come up with some ideas. He didn't have to tell her about their alter egos to get some help with schemes for getting them locked in the same room together.

…

 **The Trap:  
**

It was far easier than he thought it would be. He hadn't even needed Reika's input at all, as his first scheme appeared to be progressing smoothly. Neither Usagi nor Mamoru could say no to his invitation, and since he was known for throwing extravagant parties with crowds of people, it would never occur to either of them that the two of them might be his only invitees.

Usagi had somehow arrived first about half an hour early in an adorable pink flowered summer dress that the blond worker thought perfect for the occasion. Motoki guessed that she was probably incredibly excited to be invited over to a party at his flat – usually, he only invited her to the arcade bashes. But of course, that setting was far too public for what he had in mind. And he had her settled in the living room happily snacking on a bowl of party snacks.

The doorbell rung, which meant Mamoru had arrived his normal ten minutes early, and suddenly the green-eyed host felt his stomach drop with nerves, trying to rehearse the words that would corner his friends into being honest.

He steeled himself, and opened the door anyway and waved in his friend. "Usagi's in the living room. And no one else has arrived."

"Do you need help with anything?" Mamoru offered.

"No, we're good. Just make yourself at home!" Motoki said, forcing a bright smile.

"Odango! How unlike you to be so early!" his guest greeted as he moved into the room to join her.

"Mamoru-baka!" she sing-songed back. "How completely like you to lack any and all social finesse!"

He laughed in spite of himself.

"Motoki-oniisan, do you need help with any last-minute decorations or refreshments?" Usagi asked, jumping to her feet. Motoki suspected she was looking for an excuse to not interact with Mamoru.

"Nah, I figured once everyone gets here, we'd just go out."

"Who else did you invite?" Mamoru asked, hands in his pockets.

"Reika, of course, but she just texted me to let me know she's running about half an hour late," he said trying to keep his voice casual.

"And who else?"

"That's it!" He said brightly, as if it was the most normal and obvious response.

Mamoru immediately stiffened. Usagi was a little slower to connect the dots, but she was quickly glaring unhappily at him as well.

"Just the four of us? I thought this was a party!" Mamoru objected.

"It's a dinner party," Motoki countered.

"You set me up on a double date with _him_?!" she demanded, her eyes flashing. And given that he knew she could lay him flat in about half a second he felt intimidated.

"It doesn't have to be a date. Just three of my favorite people together having dinner," he tried to mollify her.

"After you promised not to say anything?!"

"I haven't said anything," he assured her with soft eyes.

"You're not the one that should be upset Odango," Mamoru interjected.

"Look Mamoru-baka!" she barked, her angry eyes whirling towards him, granting Motoki the slightest of respites. " _You_ don't know all that is going on! So _don't_ tell me whether or not I should be _upset_!"

"You don't know everything that's going on either!" he snapped back.

Motoki grinned. This couldn't have gone better if he had told them what to say!

"Why is this so funny to you?" Mamoru asked coldly. "I cannot believe you would set me up like this."

Usagi turned her anger back towards him as well in absolute agreement. "What he said!"

And he felt that he was the common enemy that they could unite against. He just wasn't sure he would survive the wrath of both Sailor Moon and Tuxedo Mask simultaneously.

Motoki put his hands up and tried to urge calmness between both of them. "Well, I honestly cannot answer that question without breaking promises that I have made to both of you. You're both right – neither of _you_ knows everything. But _I_ do."

Two set of blue eyes narrowed suspiciously at him.

"I want you to know that you can come clean. It will be okay. I can't tell you how I know. I can only ask you to please trust me."

They turned back to one another hesitantly, and he could see them both trying to puzzle out what the other's secret was.

"Come clean about which part?" Usagi asked suspiciously.

"All of it," he told her softly.

Her eyes widened.

"But… Motoki-oniisan. I..." she seemed horrified by the mere prospect.

"I already said I can't explain," he interrupted her objection. "Please, just trust me."

"All of it?" Mamoru repeated. "You mean… _all_ of it?"

Motoki just nodded, still grinning. "How about I wait in the other room? That might make this easier."

He thought they would object, but their attention was clearly focused on one another.

"You have thirty minutes before Reika gets here and she doesn't know anything except that you are both coming with us tonight," he warned as he stepped out.

"I don't know if I'm coming…" Mamoru growled out, his displeasure at the situation finally flooding to the surface.

Motoki just shook his head disapprovingly. "Trust me Mamoru-kun. Like you already have."

And with this final reassurance he left them alone together.

He went into his study halfway down the hall and made a dramatic show of closing the door and nestling into his office chair. He then quietly wheeled the chair over to the door and silently pushed it open again because there was no way in hell he wasn't eavesdropping on this conversation. He had way too much invested in this.

It was silent for a long time – like for two or three solid minutes. Motoki found himself wondering if they were staring at one another, or awkwardly avoiding eye contact all together. When another minute went by, he found himself wondering if his guests were even still in the apartment.

"So… you don't have to tell me anything," Usagi finally offered. If her uncertain voice was anything to go by, Motoki imagined she was fidgeting nervously with her hands, while her eyes remained focused firmly on the floor. "Whatever Motoki says, you can tell me or not tell me, whatever you want."

"The same goes for you, but… just so you know, it's not a matter of what I want," Mamoru replied. Motoki knew that Mamoru would be looking straight at her. "This might… change the way you see me, and I don't know if I could live with that."

"You mean see you as something other than a condescending arrogant tool?" she offered in jest.

"Yes," Mamoru said, completely serious. And Motoki understood. Everyone knew Usagi had a crush on Tuxedo Kamen. Mamoru wanted to be certain that she liked him for him, and not because he was some superhero vigilante.

"But also," he added before she could speak. "It could make your life… more complicated."

Usagi laughed, but it was that ugly laugh that Motoki realized she probably used far more regularly that he had previously assumed and far more than he liked. "Not possible baka," she bit back. "My life is not as straight forward as it appears."

And then silence reigned again. Motoki wanted to bang his head against the wall. Come on! They were _so_ close!

"And I guess that's what I'm supposed to tell you. I…" she trailed off uncertainly.

And then he heard her sobbing and immediately felt a stab of guilt. He rose to his feet and made it around the corner intent on apologizing for forcing their hands, but he froze at the sight of Mamoru holding the blond teenager in his arms, swaying on the spot soothingly.

Motoki flipped around, and darted back into his hideaway, his guilt instantly vanquished at the adorable sight of the two standing together in an embrace.

"As you already said, you don't have to tell me anything," Mamoru told her softly. "I'll even beat up Motoki for you no charge."

"I know."

And then it turned silent once again. Motoki fought the urge to poke his head around the corner again, knowing he had to let this play out.

"I have feelings for you," Usagi suddenly admitted.

Motoki could have cheered, not at all surprised that Usagi would be the first to pour out her heart.

"And I only fought with you because it was a way to see you every day, and honestly I loved how _normal_ it felt," she continued to ramble rapidly as if afraid to stop now that she had started. "I never said anything because… it seemed safer not to. And I don't mean because you couldn't possibly feel anything for me, because I started to suspect that you actually do. But it would be dangerous for me to let anyone in my life… because I… because I'm Sailor Moon."

He heard the exhale of relief when she was finished.

"Hey!" she objected indignantly. "Why are you grinning? This _isn't_ funny. This is _serious_ Mamoru-baka! You can't tell anyone!"

"It actually kind've is funny," Mamoru disagreed.

"How could you be so cruel? You don't believe that I could be Sailor Moon? I was trying to be honest! And you just…"

Motoki couldn't help himself – he snuck a peak just in time to see Mamoru interrupt her offended rant with a finger to her lips.

"It's my turn," he told her softly.

"This took me a long time to admit to myself and even longer to say out loud to anyone else. But what you said the other day was true – I have wished for my life to be intertwined with yours, but I could never let myself take that step. I fought with you too, convinced that if I ever stopped – that if we were ever able to be civil to one another – that I wouldn't be able to stop myself from kissing you. And it was imperative to keep you at a distance. I didn't want your life to be stained by my loneliness or complications. I never wanted any of my enemies to use you against me. Because I would be at their complete and total mercy because… I love you."

He paused for a moment, searching her eyes that shone with unshed tears. "I wanted to tell you ages ago, but it all seemed so complicated because I'm Tuxedo Kamen."

"Mamoru-baka! This isn't something to joke about," she chided.

"Oh, so it's totally believable that you could be Sailor Moon, but not that I'm Tuxedo Kamen?" he challenged her. And Motoki's chest ached at the heartbreak that oozed from Mamoru's voice.

"Mamo-chan," she whispered so quietly Motoki almost couldn't hear her. "That's not what I meant. This just seems too perfect to be true."

"I'm not joking," he insisted seriously, handing her a perfect red rose that all three of them knew had not been there previously.

She gasped. "It's beautiful," she said in awe as her fingers caressed the vibrant red petals. "There aren't any thorns," she commented.

"Of course there aren't any thorns," he stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I made if for you."

A tear fell down her cheek, and Mamoru's thumb brushed it away, before his cupped her face in his hand.

"This is all too good to be true!" the slight of a girl insisted again. "Are you sure we're not dreaming?"

"There's one way to find out," her companion suggested, before leaning forward and brushing his lips against her own. "Did that feel real?" he asked her, as he leaned slightly away.

"I'm not sure, we should try again," she said eagerly. Mamoru was only too quick to comply.

Motoki let their passion go on for a dozen seconds more before he made his way back to the living room and cleared his throat dramatically. He figured the important bits of the conversation were over, and he didn't need their love to be consummated on his couch just as Reika arrived.

"There will be plenty of time for that later," Motoki chastised, when his throat clearing did nothing to break their heated kiss. "Reika-chan will be here any minute," he hissed.

The new couple reluctantly pulled away from one another, and turned back toward him, their glow of happiness dimming only slightly.

"I suppose you're both okay now with being set up on a double date?" he couldn't help but adding, feeling very pleased with himself and how well that had gone.

"So, you finally admit that's what you were doing," Mamoru countered sharply. Usagi poked him in the side in rebuke. He snatched her hand, and captured it gently within his own with a small smile.

"I'll take that as a yes," Motoki chirped back. Mamoru grunted by way of response, but did not contradict him.

"Yes, Motoki-oniisan. More than okay!" Usagi said brightly. "And thank you."

"Don't be too forgiving Usako," Mamoru said to her. "He was eavesdropping for that entire conversation."

" _What_?" she cried, turning to the blond worker in accusation.

He'll held his hands up in surrender. "I admit to nothing."

Usagi relaxed, but her cheeks were still beet red.

"That's not a denial," Mamoru commented.

But at that moment there was a knock at the door.

"Reika's here!" he exclaimed, running to open the door.

"Toki-chan! I'm so sorry I'm running late!" she said before giving him a swift kiss and then sweeping into the room.

"I think your timing is perfect," he assured his girlfriend.

"Usagi-chan! Mamoru-kun! It's so good to see you! And to see you together!" she exclaimed gesturing excitedly to their joined hands. "I was thrilled when Motoki told me the good news and that you'd be joining us tonight!"

"It's great to see you too Reika-chan!" Usagi greeted brightly, which Mamoru echoed with a friendly smile.

"So, when did it happen? How did you get together? I want to know the whole story!"

Motoki broke into nervous laughter. It never occurred to him that his girlfriend would grill the new couple the second she walked through the door. And he certainly had never anticipated it being a problem if she had. Suddenly, he understood maybe just a little of what it meant to have a secret identity. At how often in every day conversation they might bump into secrets that could not be revealed.

"Uh… Reika-chan," he interrupted. "Let's not interrogate the new couple on our first double date. They'll never want to come out with us again."

"It's okay Motoki-oniisan," Usagi assured with confident sparkling blue eyes. "You think I don't want to gush about my new boyfriend, and how he swept me off my feet?"

"Uh… I just thought that it might be personal…" he said uncertainly, still trying to buy time.

"Come on Motoki-kun! You know Usako can't keep a secret to save her life!"

He looked at them both, shocked at how calm they were. Of course, they did this every single day, he realized. He was the nervous wreck.

"Let's head out then, and you can tell us on the way," he agreed, deciding to trust them, as they had trusted him.


	4. Theme 4: Grief

A/N: This one is sad you guys. Just to warn you. And you have UglyGreenJacket to thank for providing the motivation and encouragement to finish it. Hopefully she especially, can appreciate sad things.

 **Theme: Grief**  
 **Title: Liar**

The urgent warning flooded his chest shooting anxiety and adrenaline down his veins as it had countless nights before. He followed the invisible guiding chord as he always did leaping across the Tokyo skyline as easily as a frog jumps across lily pads on a pond. It lead him to a small clearing amongst the city sprawl where four of the Sailor Senshi squared off against a creature of nightmares. It had spines sprouting from its back like a set of external fangs the length of his forearm, tusks that looked to have been stolen from a rhinoceros, scaly orange skin, and hooves for feet.

The beast snarled and then suddenly it was charging towards the golden haired senshi that he was somehow connected to – the senshi that he fought to protect for reasons he did not understand. He pushed off the ground like an Olympic runner vaulted off a starting block.

But he already knew he was too late. He could never get there in time. He urged his limbs to new impossible speeds, but his quads remained heavy and sluggish. The whole world seemed to stop, but all he could do was watch the train wreck happen.

Watch the monster's tusk gore through the Lunar Guardian waist as if tearing through hot wax. He heard the shocked sharp intake of breath as the unnatural spear tore through her form and watched as her eyes widened in disbelief. A second later her snow white fuku bloomed with deadly red.

He was at her side less than half a second later.

Might as well have been a century for all the good his presence did her.

Crystal blue eyes fluttered open at his touch and looked right at him. A delicate gloved hand cautiously reached out for his mask. Just as quickly, she jerked away before making contact as if burned.

"I'm… sorry," she managed. "I have… no right. I just… wanted to… see your face."

He tore off the mask.

"Mamoru-baka," she greeted with the smallest of smiles forming on her strawberry pick lips. "I'm glad… it was you."

Then her eyelids fell closed as if they were made of lead rather than paper thin flesh.

He remained frozen in disbelief – he had been too late. He had failed in his one sacred duty.

His body felt numb, his throat closed completely – something within him had shattered, but he was too far gone to acknowledge whatever shifted.

Her fuku that served as battle armor faded with her breath, leaving behind an ordinary girl in the lunar guardian's wake. A girl in a familiar blue school uniform. A girl with golden hair tied up in buns and streamers and blushing rose pink cheeks.

Someone was howling with impossible grief.

A minute later he realized, it was his own primal screams that rent through the night air.

"Usako!" he cried. "I didn't know."

He clutched her form to his chest, rocking inconsolably unconcered with the sticky redness that oozed from her form over and onto his own. A set of hands that tried to urge him away from her body. And then there were more and they only became more insistent. But they weren't strong enough. Not against him. And they didn't understand - he couldn't let her go. Not now. Maybe not ever.

"How could you?" he screamed, his rage and anger pulsing through his form.

"Tuxedo Kamen-sama," a gentle voice urged him. He didn't hear it. He could not hear it.

"You promised," he cried. "You promised." She had promised him so much. She was the little girl at the hospital who had given him a rose on the morning after his parent's death. She was the princess that haunted his dreams and promised his only chance of peace. She was a teenage girl who vexed him and left him tongue-tied as no one else could. She was the Sailor Suited Soldier of Love and Justice and his entire purpose in life was to keep her safe. She was the one source of light in his dark and lonely world.

She had promised him – in so many forms. Promised him that he wouldn't have to be alone anymore.

"You lied," he accused her, through his wracking form. "You lied!" he screamed.

"Tuxedo Kamen-sama!"

This couldn't be real.

He had never failed before. He had never been too late. There always close calls, but somehow he managed to sweep her away in the nick of time. This had to be a dream!

And yet, he was still howling. He knew that he would have already torn awake from a nightmare.

This nightmare was all too real.

"Tuxedo Kamen," the voice gentled. "I know it is hard, but you have to let her go."

He shook his head violently and pulled her to him more tightly.

"Mamoru-baka!" the voice whispered harshly. "We took care of the youma! But we need to go."

He looked up at swirling violet eyes in anger. How could she speak of such practical things when her leader was lying in his arms unmoving?

The other senshi were comforting each other through their own impossible grief. But here Mars stood before him urging him to see sense?

"Did you care about her at all?" he demanded. "Or did you just want to take her place?"

She decked him across the face. Hard. With all the power of a planet infused senshi and he found himself flying backwards. He managed to hold on to Usagi's form through it all, but his vision remained cloudy for a several seconds.

"She wouldn't want this!" the raven-haired warrior screamed at him. "She wouldn't want you falling to pieces! She would need you to be strong! To protect her world!"

And then all the fight went out of her, and she crumpled to her knees, her form wracking violently with her own previously suppressed grief.

He ignored her, turning his attention back to the heart shaped face before him. Mars was right. Usagi, his princess, and Sailor Moon would all demand that he continue living – that he continue fighting, as impossible as that seemed in this moment.

He would have to figure it out though. He had no other reason to live except to see her wishes done.

"Sailor Mars," he whispered to the grief stricken girl, understanding all too well when she did not acknowledge him.

"Sailor Mars," he tried again. "Where does she live?"

The least he could do was take her home, and explain to her family why she had died. If for no other reason than that is what she would have wanted.


	5. Theme 5: Motherhood

**Theme 5: Motherhood**

 **Title: A Mother's Prayer**

Ikuko wondered if her sixteen-year-old daughter knew how thin the walls were. She doubted it, if the loud conversation emanating from her upstairs corner bedroom was anything to go by. Especially in light of the fact, that she had left her bedroom door open in an absolutely silent and almost empty house. And Ikuko herself, emptying the dishwasher of its clean contents – a task that only created occasional audible clangs, could hear the conversation quite clearly.

"But Luna!" her daughter screeched in complaint. "It was for homework! Ami-chan was helping me with my math homework."

"That communicator is _not_ a toy!" the other voice admonished. "It is for senshi related business _only_!"

And did Luna really think that no one would hear her as long as they didn't see her speaking? The alien feline was far too expressive and not very catlike at times, Ikuko mused as she pushed a stack of ceramic plates into their place in the cupboard.

Ikuko loved confiding in the small beast, understanding that creature understood, soaked in, and internalized every single word. Did the blue-haired mother passive aggressively try to instill thick waves of guilt into her daughter's advisor for sweeping the sixteen-year-old girl into this chaos?

On more than one occasion.

Maybe even every opportunity that she could, if Ikuko was truly being honest with herself.

Because the housewife resented the creature for putting this impossible burden on her daughter. Her verbal assaults on the feline felt even more effective in that the midnight-black cat could not respond – she had to just absorb it and feel bad. And the advisor did feel guilty – Ikuko could see it in the creature's eyes.

And yet, the mother of two could never could bring herself to confront their house "pet" or her daughter either.

In that exact moment, a soft and yet, incessant beeping rang through the household. Ikuko's form went rigid with fear the alarm always brought since the first time the woman had heard it.

 _An alarm penetrated her dreams, and Ikuko found her eyes blinking open in confusion. A quick glance at the clock revealed that it was just after three in the morning. None in her family would set an alarm for this hour._

"Luna," she heard her daughter mumbling through the open window. "I don't want to go. Five more minutes."

 _Ikuko rose to her feet, wrapping her robe around herself tightly as she stepped into her house slippers. Usagi must have left her own window open as well._

" _Usagi-chan!" an unfamiliar voice hissed in response. "There's a youma in the park. The other girls need you!"_

 _Ikuko tried not to panic. There was someone else in their house – a woman, who was speaking to her daughter with familiarity. Just outside the door, Ikuko heard the bolt action of her daughter leaping out of bed._

" _I'm sorry, Luna! I was still asleep," Usagi explained. "I'm going!"_

 _Luna? Usagi was speaking to her cat?!_

 _Ikuko opened the door, prepared to catch a stranger in the house. But the room was completely empty – only the curtains rippled in the midnight breeze. She moved to the window, her heart having fallen to her stomach. And just outside the gate, she watched the Lunar Guardian running up the street in the distance with a little black cat following in her wake._

If truth be told, Ikuko recognized that her daughter had grown so much since she had taken on the responsibility of protecting the city from paranormal monsters. She still failed English tests, she still squealed over this latest fad, and gushed over the cute boy that ran the arcade. But past the surface, her daughter had become someone who _cared_. About _everyone_.

The girl had always been sweet, but now she came home and shared the life stories of the neighborhood gardener and volunteered at the local daycare center. She was always asking for help to make gifts for her classmates and for total strangers that seemed to be having a hard time. Honestly, Ikuko was inspired by her daughter's ability to truly see others and accept them for who they were. She cared about something greater than herself. And she took very little for granted, expressing appreciation for so many little details, like her laundry being done, or her favorite dress being patched.

And Ikuko doubted anyone else on the planet could fill her daughter's shoes.

She took so much pride in that fact.

But that pride didn't protect her from the ever all-consuming terror – the fear that her daughter might not return from the monsters she slayed in the depth of the night.

Ikuko turned a blind eye to the bruises and cuts, a deaf ear to the loud bedroom conversations, and pretended she never noticed the bandages thrown away in the bathroom trash can. She played loud music to cover her daughter's paranormal responsibilities when her husband or son were home. And even though Ikuko had become the lightest sleeper since her children were born, she would never admit to hearing the window open and quiet feet drop down from the second story window.

"Mama! I have to go out! I'll be back as soon as I can!"

"Tsukino Usagi, your father and brother will be home any minute, and dinner is being served in fifteen minutes. Whatever it is, it can wait!" the older woman called out before the blond teenager could make it through the door.

"But it can't!" her daughter wailed. "It's an emergency!"

"What is so important that you have to miss dinner with your family?" Ikuko demanded, her voice sharp and shrill with anger.

Ikuko wasn't sure why she snapped in that moment. She _knew_ why Usagi had to go, and she didn't want to be an additional source of stress on her daughter who bore so much of it alone – more than Ikuko was sure she, herself could even comprehend.

She just didn't want her beautiful precious daughter jumping headfirst into mortal peril. She didn't want her to go at all. She wanted her home, safe, and plugged into that chair wailing about how annoying or mean her brother was when he stole her portion of her favorite meat dumpling.

Usagi stared at her frozen, her cerulean blue eyes swirling wide with panic, and her mouth gaping open like a fish searching for anything – an excuse no doubt. But in that moment Ikuko understood, her daughter couldn't think of one.

The housewife took a deep breath and let it out as a long sigh, collecting herself and her own emotions.

"Did Rei's grandpa fall off the roof again?" she offered gently, as she readjusted the hand towel draped over the oven's handle. "Or did Minako get into another fight with her parents and is crying herself senseless? That poor girl…"

"Uh… n… I mean, yes! The second one! I can't leave her alone mama! I have to go!"

Ikuko brushed her daughter's bangs from her eyes and caressed both of her cheeks. "Of course you do," she conceded gently. "I will leave your dinner in the oven."

"You're the best mama!" and the girl was out the sliding glass door like a whirlwind.

Luna darted after her charge, but then froze just before she leapt through the doorway, and looked back at the worried mother, her eyes narrowed into suspicious slits.

"Oh, go on koneko-chan," Ikuko shooed the talking cat over the threshold into their small green yard. "You know you want to follow her."

If the guardian was going to protect and advise her daughter, she couldn't do it from the kitchen of the Tsukino household.

"Keep her safe, Luna. _Please_ , just keep her safe," she prayed with every fiber of her being.

…

A/N: This is based totally on my own feelings regarding my experience with motherhood – having to watch my son go through some crazy intense stuff that I have no power to help him with (he's got a lot of medical issues including epilepsy).

Mamoru will be back next time! Hope you enjoyed the uniqueness of this piece.


	6. Theme 6: Friendship

**Theme 6: Friendship  
Title: Stitches**

"Tuxedo Kamen-sama!" the shrill scream vibrated through him even as the plant monster's projectile tore through right lower abdomen. The foreign object remained lodged near his spine buzzing painfully like an angry hornet's nest. He managed to fling out a sharp dart-like rose at the offending creature before he crashed to the ground, helpless and unmoving.

He hissed through the agony even has he pressed an arm into the wound, trying to apply the needed pressure. He lay immobile, and watched powerlessly as the monster charged towards his fallen prey. The masked vigilante closed his eyes, accepting his fate.

But the blow never came. _She_ was there, standing in its way, refusing to let it past. The blond heroine in a blue and red fuku fought it off with quick thrusts and kicks, defending him with her presence, never giving an inch. He allowed his head to fall to the pavement below, trusting her to finish the job.

She must have been victorious because she was soon kneeling at his side.

"Tuxedo Kamen-sama? Are you alright?" she asked.

"I've had better days," he conceded through gritted teeth. His hand was wet with sticky warmth, suggesting his blood was still flowing. Considering his supernaturally fast healing abilities, this was not a good sign.

"It looks terrible," she informed him tightly, remaining surprisingly calm. Though now that he was thinking about it, she probably had managed through her own sets of bloody wounds and injuries. "You probably need a doctor."

He couldn't go to a hospital without revealing his identity, he was sure. "That's probably a terrible idea."

"Not nearly as terrible as you bleeding to death," she countered.

Which was a fair point. "I… have some medical training myself and some equipment at home," he told her, trying to convince those fierce crystal blue eyes that he was not quite the idiot she might believe him to be based on his current obstinance.

He tried to stand, only to crumple himself back into a ball as the agony lanced up and down his form.

"You're never going to make it there by yourself. Let me help you," she said, holding out her hand as an offer of support.

He grasped her hand and attempted to come to his feet again. Her other arm wrapped supportively around his form as she straightened her legs, pulling him up in the process, doing the vast majority of the heavy lifting.

He brushed her arms away, and again attempted to step forward under his own power, only to practically collapse once again. She remained just inches away, her eyes once again boring into him disapprovingly, waiting for him to capitulate.

He nodded, accepting her aid once again. She wrapped his right arm over her shoulder as she held his weight almost completely on her own. How had he not known she was so strong?

"Where are we going?" she asked.

The question filled him with unease. They needed to head to his apartment, but that meant she would know where he lived – that it would be only too easy to figure out who he was.

But what choice did he have?

"Northeast," he mumbled pointing in the general direction.

He felt her crouch, and he moved down with her. Then she launched them upwards, and they landed painfully on another high-rise building across an alleyway. He breathed carefully, trying to recover from the harsh force of impact.

With a mile or so, still to go, it was going to be a _long_ journey. 

He fell into sync with her whenever he could, timing his leaps to coincide with her own. He was delirious with pain, which almost helped because he couldn't overthink anything – he could rely only on muscle memory. The further they went the more he leaned on her, surprised and grateful for her strength.

"Would you like me to close my eyes?" she offered, after a time. She probably noticed that his directions were becoming more specific, and that meant they were getting closer.

He appreciated her sensitivity, but he shook his head. The leaps required were really much safer with your eyesight intact, and he would not be okay with her getting hurt trying to help him.

They finally landed on his balcony with a painful grunt.

He managed to slide the glass door open and stumble to the sanctuary within. He allowed himself to collapse onto the pristine hardwood floor the second they were over the threshold with no concern for the thin red rivulets of blood dripping from his form.

"Tuxedo Kamen-sama!" she shouted in concern.

He moaned, his vision spinning.

"Please," she begged, "Stay with me. You have to tell me what to do."

He blinked back the mental fog that threatened to overtake him. "The kit… is in the bedroom," he managed. "Under the bed."

He used it often enough that having easy access to it was imperative.

She came back with the green plastic box. She sat beside him on the floor opening the box, revealing antiseptics and bandages with a row of silver medical tools lined up in pockets on the outer layer.

"Where did he get you?"

He rolled to his stomach, and gestured to his right abdominal cavity. The projectile had struck him from the back.

She gasped at the site, and he decided he didn't want to see it.

"There's still a claw embedded in your back."

Which would explain why he wasn't healing. And perhaps, why it hurt so much. He tried to think through what the next steps should be, but he could barely form a coherent thought.

She touched it and he cried out with the lancing pain.

"Don't take it out," he told her automatically.

Her hands jerked away. "What do you mean, don't take it out? It's hurting you!"

"If it cut through an artery, that hook is the only thing preventing me from bleeding out right now."

"Oh… So, what do I do?"

"We have to… stop the bleeding. It'll probably need stitches, but… it mostly needs pressure. You need to bandage the projectile in place, so that it can't move. It has to be tight – to add a lot of pressure."

She got to work and they fell into silence again. He focused on breathing through the pain and trying not to hiss or scream at every ministration. The good news was the pulsing pain seemed an excellent strategy for keeping him conscious. 

He swallowed another cry, and looked up into her blue eyes, surprised to find her biting her lip with suppressed merriment.

"What's so funny?" he hissed out.

"Nothing. Just, you could scream or something. Curse. I don't know. I personally find that crying helps. But no, you have to sit and suffer in silence. Be strong or whatever. You remind me of a friend of mine."

"This person have a name?" he growled back irritably.

"Chiba Mamoru," she quipped back her attention never straying from her task.

He jerked at the all too familiar name. She didn't seem to notice.

"He's studying to be a doctor too. And yeah, he's like a concrete wall when it comes to admitting any kind of vulnerability. Physical or emotional."

"A friend of yours?" he repeated dumbly. "I didn't realize Chiba had any friends."

She laughed at his description. "He has friends!" she defended him with righteous indignation. "You know him?"

"You could say that," he admitted.

"Perhaps we know each other!" she said excitedly.

"It seems very likely at the moment," he admitted, now incredibly curious to who she actually was that she would refer to him as a friend.

"I think that this is finished," she announced.

Not being able to see the wound on his back, he had to trust her.

"We have to wait about forty-five minutes to an hour for the blood to clot. Then, if the bleeding has stopped, you'll be able to remove the projectile, disinfect it again, stitch me up, and replace the bandage."

"What do you want to do for an hour?"

If he was truly honest he wanted to keep talking, to see if he could figure out who she was, but he immediately felt guilty at the thought. She hadn't tried to figure him out at all – had even offered to come to his place blind.

"What do you like to do for fun?" he asked instead, certain that he would have something to offer to keep her busy for the next sixty minutes.

"Umm… all sorts of things really! I like anime, manga, and I love being outside, especially when the moon is full. Is that too cliché as the Senshi of the Moon?" she rambled endearingly. "My _favorite_ thing is probably eating, especially getting to share the experience with others."

"My kitchen is rather empty at the moment, but there are multimedia options," he gestured towards the state of the art entertainment system instead. "Knock yourself out," he invited. He remained on his stomach, unmoving on the floor.

"Woah! You must be loaded," she said, taking in the seventy-two inch screen that dominated an entire wall.

Before he could blink she was fumbling with a handful of remotes, quickly learning which one controlled what. Moments later she watched enraptured by an anime that he had never seen, the show occasionally interrupted by her giggles.

He smiled at the sound, and allowed his eyes to drift closed.

Just as quickly she was at his side again, prodding him gently.

"Hey Tuxedo-Kamen-sama," she whispered urgently. "I know enough about blood loss that you shouldn't sleep just yet."

He blinked his eyes open and fell into her blue pools. "You're right," he agreed.

"Can I get you anything?" she offered. "Some pillows? Or something to drink?"

The suggestion of a drink was not a bad one. He should be drinking fluids – fruit juice or something with electrolytes.

"There's some carrot juice in the fridge," he told her. "Water it down." He was going to have a hard time drinking it from his current position. "There are straws in the pantry – top shelf on the right," he added.

"You have bendy straws?" she called back in disbelief.

He chuckled at the question. And instantly regretted it.

She came back and set the glass down on the floor beside him, angling the straw so he could drink it from his sideways vantage without moving from his position.

"So, do you live here alone?" she asked him, as she eyed the beige walls speckled with a few abstract pieces of artwork.

"It's just me," he confirmed, trying to focus on her, rather than his throbbing side.

"You don't have any family?" there was something about the way she asked the question, as if she already knew the answer and it saddened her.

"I've been on my own for awhile. I prefer it," he answered vaguely after a straw full of the orange colored juice. He allowed his head to rest back on the floor, and focused on his breathing.

"How do you pay for it all?" she asked, this time her voice was filled with awe.

"Are you trying to figure out who I am?" he countered sharply after the third question.

Her cheek flushed with embarrassed heat. "Honestly no," she explained. "I was merely trying to keep you talking so you would stay conscious."

The response, so unexpected, caught him by surprise and he couldn't think of a response. It was strange to have anyone worrying about him.

"If you prefer, you could ask me questions instead," she offered.

He felt tempted. He knew it wouldn't take much with the right questions to figure out her identity. The thought made him feel guilty again. He wanted to respect her privacy. But surely there was something he could ask that wouldn't reveal too much.

"Favorite youma?" he queried.

She guffawed at the question. "Favorite youma?!" she repeated with outrage. "They are _all_ awful!"

"Some are worse than others," he countered.

"Do _you_ have a favorite?"

"Petasos," he answered immediately. "She showed an appreciation for gardens."

She started giggling. "Well, if I had to choose, maybe Binah…?"

"Why?" he asked her with a cheeky grin.

"She was… I don't know… graceful. I have always wanted to be more graceful."

"Favorite senshi?"

"Sailor Moon!" she quipped back.

He rolled his eyes at the self-serving answer. "That's no fun."

"Probably Venus," she admitted softly. "Yours?"

"Mars definitely," he said with a straight face. "As demonstrated by my constantly whisking her out of danger at the last possible moment."

She turned away shyly, blushing once again. He loved it.

"How did you become Sailor Moon?" he found himself asking.

"I rescued a cat from a bunch of boys. I thought nothing of it, but apparently she wasn't an ordinary house cat. She followed me around for a day assessing me before revealing herself. She can talk and she taught me how to transform. She sets my training and offers advice."

"A talking cat?" he repeated, incredulous. The pain was fading now as his paranormal healing abilities and Moon's handiwork did their job.

"A talking cat is too unbelievable compared to some of the youmas we've seen?" she asked indignantly.

"Fair point," he conceded.

"What about you? You don't seem to have any pets or side kicks explaining the paranormal to you."

"I don't know. At first, I didn't even know I was Tuxedo Kamen. I was just having these black outs. I would just wake up somewhere strange, not remembering how I got there."

"That sounds terrifying. How did you figure out what was going on?"

He found himself confiding in her about the news reports of attacks that always seemed to line up with his black outs. And how at first, he was terrified he was actually the monster, rather than the hero. He told her about his dreams of a princess begging for help, and how he had eventually pieced it all together.

She was easy to talk to, and it was so refreshing to have someone to confide in where he didn't have to filter any of his strange world.

All too quickly, the hour was up, and she was checking his bandage.

"How do I tell if the blood has clotted?"

"Press very gently down on the bandage," he directed. "If any blood gushes, it hasn't clotted and we should wait."

She did as directed, and he cringed at her touch, but the pain was not nearly as bad as it had been when they had first arrived.

"Take one layer off at a time. In between, you're checking for the same thing."

"What if I accidentally reopen the wound?" she asked, her voice shaking with uncertainty.

"Just go really slowly," he advised, as he focused on remaining absolutely still through the painful pokes.

"Okay, we're down to the projectile," she reported. "I think we're good. There is no gushing, but maybe a little oozing. So, what I do now?"

"In the kit, there are needles and a special surgical thread as well. There's also gloves and an antiseptic. Put on the gloves and poor the antiseptic over the needle and the wound itself."

He let out a hiss at the burning sensation of the iodine seeping through the layers of skin.

"I'm sorry!" she gushed urgently. "I'm so sorry!"

"It had to be done," he said through gritted teeth. "Now, you have the needle threaded?"

"Yeah… you want me to actually stitch through your skin?" she asked nervously.

"That's the general idea," he said stoically, holding himself tight. He was grateful to be face down and unable to see what she was doing. And he certainly wasn't going to mention to her his fear of needles.

"You have to remove the projectile first, add more antiseptic, and once you do, you want to try to stitch it closed quickly before it has too much chance to bleed."

He heard her take in a deep breath behind him, as if she was trying to draw in courage from the very air around them. And then he bit his lip as he felt the searing agony as she removed the foreign object. The prick of the needle was barely noticeable in comparison. It moved in and out, the pull of the thread through his skin feeling strange, almost enough to distract him from ball of fire in his lower back.

He focused on his breathing and holding himself still, so he didn't realize immediately that she had stopped.

"I think I've finished," she reported.

"There should be a mirror in that kit."

"Yeah," she said rummaging around. "Here," she offered him the reflective piece.

He held it at an angle to his side, so he could take a look at her handy work. Her stitches were jagged and uneven, but small and effective in holding the wound closed. Blood trickled at the edges, but was no longer flowing freely. It was definitely going to scar, but it wouldn't be his first.

"Nice work," he complimented, impressed that she was able to follow his directions so well. "Now, it just needs another bandage – make it tight."

A few minutes later he breathed a sigh of relief. The wound still throbbed, but with the removal of the projectile it didn't have the searing excruciating lightning bolts before.

"Help me up?" he requested, really not wanting to spend the night on the cold hard floor. She quickly had him propped up on the couch with his back against a pile of throw pillows.

"Thank you," he said sincerely, meeting her sapphire blue eyes with his own.

"You're welcome," she said, her smile brighter than the sunrise. But she was quickly frowning at him once again. "Are you sure you're going to be alright?"

"I heal really fast," he reassured her confidently. Unnatural healing was the _one_ benefit of his superpowers. "By tomorrow, it won't even need stitches, and the day after that it will look like a decade old scar."

"Well, I guess that's it then," she said with another smile. "See you next time?"

"Yeah," he agreed. "Next time." He didn't want her to leave. He spent the majority of the evening on the floor and in pain, but he hadn't felt lonely or detached from the world around him for the first time in years. And while he had always admired the lunar guardian, it had always been somewhat impersonal. Now, he felt like he knew her a bit and he liked what he saw. He found himself wishing he had the opportunity to know her better.

But there was no reason for her to stay. "Thank you Sailor Moon," he whispered again as she turned to go.

"You're most welcome Tuxedo-Kamen-sama," she called back. She turned to leave.

"Sailor Moon?" he called, just as she parted the flowing drapes to his balcony.

"Yes?" she asked, turning around eagerly with wide eyes, almost as if she too, was reluctant to leave.

"Did you mean it?" he asked, internally cringing at how needy the question sounded.

"Mean what?" she asked, her eyebrows furrowed in genuine puzzlement.

"When you said that Chiba Mamoru was your friend?"

"I… uh… yes, I consider him a friend," she seemed flustered at the seeming sudden change in topic. "I don't know if he feels the same though. Are we back to trying to figure out one another's identities?" she asked with a teasing smile.

"Perhaps," he admitted. Before he could overthink or talk himself into being sensible he slipped the mask down off his face. "Or maybe, I just really enjoyed the company of a friend tonight, and would like to repeat the experience."

Her face stilled, in frozen shock. His heart had fallen to his stomach, sending his innards writhing.

It felt like an eternity, but it could only have been a split second, and her lips were curling upward in the brightest mega-watt smile he had seen all evening. "Mamoru-baka!" she greeted enthusiastically. "Of course, it is you!"

The insulting honorific with his name rolling off her tongue with that familiar inflection and he felt floored all over again. _Usagi_ considered him a friend?! He felt the pressure on his chest evaporate at the revelation, as he took in new air easily.

"Odango Atama?" he made himself say.

"Don't look too surprised," she replied drolly.

It never occurred to him to doubt that the young teenage girl could be the sailor suited soldier of the moon. He just hadn't been expecting to see her.

"You really consider _me_ a friend?" he asked again, almost unable to believe that she would bestow that coveted title onto him.

She crossed her arms and leaned casually against the glass door's frame, a playful grin playing across her face. "Well," she drawled. "I didn't say you you're not an egotistical insensitive arrogant impossible insufferable know-it-all," she listed off dramatically on her fingers.

He found himself grinning, trying hard not to laugh.

"…and that you don't drive me to the very limits of my patience and sanity! But _yes_ ," she insisted emphatically. "I consider you to be a friend. Is that so hard to believe?"

"I just…" he trailed off, not able to put into words his doubt and his guilt for his sometimes, scathing insults and smug superiority.

"I get to be myself around you," she confessed. "I don't have to hold anything back. I get to be just an ordinary girl with ordinary problems."

He felt so humbled by those words, understanding all too well what that sense of normalcy, however short-lived, would mean to someone who had to live a double life.

"There's nothing ordinary about you!" he countered harshly. "Not Sailor Moon or Usagi."

She lifted an eyebrow at his sudden passion. "What do you mean?"

"You give me reason to smile," he said simply. "And you don't put on any airs. You share exactly what you thinking, you're open with everyone, and it's… beautiful," he finished lamely. Words just were so inadequate to describe how she touched the world with her joy and cheer.

Her eyes, suddenly glassy, considered him carefully, but she remained painfully quiet. He had no idea how to fill the ensuing void.

"But… you're never smiling when we meet!" she finally objected as she stormed from the door back towards him. "Unless, you count that stupid superior smirk! Which _I_ don't!" she said shrilly with hands on her hips.

"Well, of course not Odango!" he bantered back, suddenly once again on very comfortable ground. "I can't let you know the effect you have on me! I'd be absolutely lost!"

"Is that such a bad thing?" she asked softly. And suddenly he realized how close she was, her face just inches away from his own.

"Well, I thought it was," he murmured softly. "But I'm thinking in this moment, that you've been right all along."

"Right about what?" she asked gleefully, whipping backwards, their moment of intimacy shattered.

"That I'm just a baka," he said mournfully.

She patted his hand reassuringly. "You're not _just_ a baka," she quipped. "You're also my friend."

He was no longer sure that was enough, but tonight… Tonight, he would take it.

"Lucky me," he said, and he found that he actually meant those words with every fiber of his being.

…

A/N: Apparently, there was a review event this past week sponsored by FloraOne, and she was nice enough to shout me out a few times! And with all the ensuing increased attention, favorites, follows, and a few reviews, I had to get something new out for ya'll!

And this little drabble was just too much fun to write! These two are just too cute! Though I must confess, this one does irritate me in places, but I decided when I started this series, that its purpose was to get words flowing, so I shouldn't obsess! Hopefully, the momentum gained here will result in a few updates elsewhere. I don't know about you, by MY fingers are definitely crossed.


	7. Theme 7: Freudian Slip

A/N: This one is kind of similar to the last one with a different flavor. There's a reason for that! They actually started as the same story, but at some point they diverged and became something different.

 **Theme: Freudian Slip  
** **Title: A Familiar Dynamic**

Sailor Moon saw the attack coming and threw herself to her right with all the grace and finesse of a newborn filly. Her hair whipped around her, caught up in the blast. She tried not to think about how close that was, and instead, focused on the task at hand – taking out the youma.

She recovered her balance, zeroed in on her target, and channeled her power into her tiara.

Before she could release it, she was swept to the side of the battlefield, in the familiar embrace of her masked protector.

"Damn it Tuxedo Kamen!" she barked angrily as he set her gently back to her feet. "I _had_ that shot!"

"The _youma_ had the shot! There was a missile heading straight for you!" he argued back.

"I was going to dodge it!" she insisted as she turned her attention to the fiend once again. She leapt forward toward her adversary, determined to not let her mysterious ally get in the way, trying to line up another shot. Weaving in between the debris on the ground and the thrown stones the monster continued to dish out.

"You didn't even see it!" he countered, providing a constant stream of his own floral projectiles that covered her from one side.

"I saw it!" she lied childishly! She channeled her power into her tiara again. This time, she would neutralize the bastard that terrorized innocents in the night.

She let her power infused tiara fly, and it flew true, but the youma got the last say – pieces of shrapnel arced out in every direction like a grenade in slow motion.

She should have known not to worry. A black cape and the man wearing it, shielded her from the deadly hail. He hissed in pain at the wave struck him.

She bridged the small gap between them instantly. "You're hurt!" she accused.

"I heal quickly," he said, dismissing the concern.

"It wouldn't have happened if you gave me a little credit and let me finish it off the first time!"

"Well, I'm sorry for trying to protect you!" he barked back.

"I don't need protection!" she stomped her boot into the ground, emphasizing each syllable.

"Yes, you do, Odango Atama!" he said firmly.

"Now see here Mamoru-baka!" she raged, "I have a name! I'm so completely tired of you pretending…" she trailed off, realizing that she wasn't talking to Mamoru-baka at all. That it was Tuxedo Kamen that stood before her.

She felt her cheeks blazing with embarrassment, and their argument faded into the silence that normally accompanied three am. He was the first to break it.

"What… What did you just call me?" he whispered, his body standing tall before her, as stiff and rigid as a frozen fish stick. Her embarrassment grew ten-fold as she imagined how insulted he must feel that she had called him by someone else's name.

"I'm sorry," she said contritely. "There's this boy I know. He always calls me that. And I hate it!"

"Why?" he asked, his voice suddenly soft - like velvet.

" _Because_!" she insisted petulantly, searching for the words that could explain what it was about the baka that just crawled under her skin so easily. "It's like he just thinks I'm this silly girl with a childish hairstyle. And maybe I am those things, but I'm _more_ than that too. I wish he could see it!"

"Maybe he's just obsessed with your hair," the masked man suggested, his lips curled just slightly with amusement.

She snorted. "Chiba Mamoru doesn't care about things like hair."

"What does he care about?"

She bit her lip in uncertainty. She had always wanted to have a real conversation with her favorite vigilante, had dreamed about it actually, but she had never figured she would be talking to him about the _baka_.

"I don't know…. He cares about school and doing well. He's like always studying some crazy esoteric subject or another."

"Esoteric?"

"It means that the subject is not common knowledge – like it's rare and not a lot of people would know it."

"I know what esoteric means," he said with a grin. "I'm just surprised that you do."

" _See_! That's exactly what I mean! Nobody gives me any credit," she whined.

"I'm sorry," he said contritely. And starring into his midnight blue eyes that swirled with a deep emotion she could not label, she believed him.

She could get lost in those eyes.

"You were telling me about this… Chiba Mamoru?" he prompted, breaking the silence between them once again.

She broke eye contact rapidly, her blush surging back to the surface. "Right! Mamoru-baka! Well, he's got this dignified air around him. Like the mundane problems of the world around him are just beneath him. I envy that quality. I get so distracted by… well, everything! But I think he actually does it because he cares too much… like he knows that if he let himself look at anything he'd be consumed by his inability to help. I don't know," she interrupted herself. "Maybe I'm reading too much into it. He's pretty stoic."

"It sounds like you know him well," was the gentle reply.

"I don't know about _that_. But I'd like to!" she confessed, and he smiled.

"You would? Even though he calls you names that you detest?"

"Yeah… He seems lonely. And he makes it worse because he holds everyone in the world at arm's length. Even his best friend. I don't think anyone should have to be that alone."

She paused at this point, not sure how to continue. "It may sound weird, but his isolation really bothers me – like it's my job to fix it. But I think I just irritate him when I try."

"I would be willing to bet that he secretly covets every moment in your company," he said.

She looked back up at his eyes, struck by his complete sincerity, wishing she could see past the mask. Still, she just couldn't picture the baka giving her much thought at all outside of their random collisions. "I don't know about that."

"Can I ask you for some advice about a girl I know?"

"Sure!" she said immediately, eager to give him the chance to talk.

"So, there's this girl. She is so bright and bubbly. She's literally the kindest person I have ever met. She has just has this talent for moving past the surface level – she gets people to share their dreams, and then she helps them believe they are actually possible. And she makes it look _so_ easy."

She couldn't help the bile that rose in her throat. Her hero sounded completely smitten over this girl. She forced herself to smile anyway, delighted that he was confiding in her.

"I made a horrible first impression on her – like the absolute _worst_. I said some stupid things, and she took everything I said the wrong way, and we just fell into this dynamic where we constantly fight. But I want things to be different, but… I'm nervous that if I tell her any of this she'll just laugh in my face. How do I start over?"

She laughed, delighted that the most sought after romantic and mysterious hero Tokyo had ever seen, also suffered from his own insecurities and bouts of uncertainty.

"I don't think you have to do anything special. Just say _that_! Maybe apologize for whatever it was you did that made the first impression."

"You think it would be that simple?" he sounded almost desperate.

"Well, I don't know about this girl in particular, but that's what I wish would happen to me with Mamoru-baka. That I could know that he doesn't actually hate me or think so little of me. That he just messed up and didn't know how to fix it."

"Thank you," he said softly, "I'll try that."

"Thank you for letting me ramble all night at you. It actually feels good to confess all that to somebody," she admitted. "But I imagine you have far more important things to be doing than listen to a teenaged girl's silly problems."

"No, thank _you_. I really enjoyed this," he confessed with a genuine smile.

"Me too," she agreed, his smile felt contagious to her. "Good night Tuxedo Kamen-sama."

"Good night Sailor Moon," he whispered so softly.

She slowly made her way to the edge of the building, and crouched down to make her first impossible leap to the next building over to head home.

"Usagi-chan!" he called out. "Please, don't go yet."

She froze before she carefully turned around. "How…?" was the only word she managed to get out, suddenly unable to form a coherent thought.

He approached her slowly as you might approach a skittish squirrel or a little bird with a morsel of food. Suddenly, he was standing so close, she could hear his heart pounding in his chest, could taste his breath.

He hesitated only a second more, before his slipped the white domino mask from his face, and she gasped in shock as a familiar superior grin spread across his chiseled jaw.

"For the record," he confided with a smirk, gently threading his gloved hand through her golden tresses. "I'm completely and totally obsessed with your hair."

She should have felt embarrassed. At all the things she had just confided in him without realizing it was… well, _him_! But instead, she couldn't stop the spread of her own ear splitting smile that bloomed across her face.

"I only ever meant for Odango Atama to serve as friendly teasing," he continued his cobalt gaze holding her frozen at the edge of the world. "And now, I tend to think of it more as an endearment. And honestly, once we fell into our sparring dynamic I confess, I enjoyed it."

"You enjoyed it?" she repeated flatly, trying to wipe the blooming smile from her face to communicate her anger, but she couldn't do it.

He shrugged and grinned again, but this time he held no superior amusement, but rather, just boyish glee. "You're cute when you're angry."

The heat blazed from her cheeks. Her face might even have been glowing.

"But, I also felt bad for hurting you, and I just had no idea how to change it."

"Really? You're not just saying that because I'm Sailor Moon?"

"I'm not. Honestly Usako, I've spent many more nights obsessing over you as a blond teenaged girl I know than as a superheroine, though I confess that I may have done a bit of that too."

 _Kami-sama_! Would she _ever_ stop blushing?

The lunar guardian struggled to find a response, but what could she say in response to the heartfelt confession of her once mysterious rescuer and antagonizing nemesis?

"And I'm sorry that I messed up your first shot tonight. I really _was_ only trying to protect you," he finished.

She was still staring at him, speechless, her heart pounding in her ears. He shifted from from one foot to another, and she realized he was nervous! Her face split into a huge smile, once again finding courage from his insecurity.

"Thank you for saying that, and thank you for saving me all the time. I didn't mean to sound ungrateful. I just want you to see that I am capable, that I have grown and improved."

"Sailor Moon," he interrupted. "I have always found you to be absolutely amazing!"

"And what of Usagi?"

"Even more so," he said immediately, confidently, and definitely completely without thought.

She stumbled over that, still completely unexpected. "But… why?" she managed to ask.

"You know all that stuff you said about me?"

She nodded.

"No one else has ever even tried to break past my barriers. But you do it all the time. You care about and love everyone, you never stop trying to heal invisible scars. Even for someone like me – who does not deserve it."

"Everyone deserves to be loved, Mamoru-baka! _Everyone_!"

He smiled gently and his hands moved from her hair to caress the side of her face.

"And that sentiment, is exactly why I loved you Usako, even more than I loved Sailor Moon."

" _Loved_?" she repeated sadly. "Past tense?"

"Well," he said with a cheeky grin. "Convinced you hated me for calling you names, I had to get over it right?"

"You should get un-over it right now!" she stamped her foot in agitation, her crystal blue eyes flashing and insistent.

He laughed – a beautiful rumbling sound that vibrated across her bare skin. It held none of the derision or mockery that she was more familiar with. Instead it was playful and genuinely delighted. She could get used to being the one to evoke it.

"As you wish Usako."

And his lips were on hers. Soft and gentle. Tasting of chocolate and coffee. Usagi and Sailor Moon both were content for the night to never end.

...

A/N: In other news I made huge progress in Going it Alone! I'm literally wrapping up my last four scenes! Keep your fingers crossed for me! Or just send me reviews! Reviews pretty much always get me writing!

Hope the holiday season is treating you all well!


	8. Theme 8: Touch

Inspired by Smoking Bomber and Ellorgast's (on Archive of Our Own) interpretation of Mamoru's powers. And the manga canon where Mamoru always knows who she is.

 **Theme: Touch  
Title: Invisible  
**

The Japanese youth had learned long ago to school his face – to hide his reactions and emotions from his face and the world. Before he had learned that such stoicism was imperative he had been only too willing to share.

The caretaker at the orphanage had been so bubbly and bright. She seemed eager to help him find his footing.

Then he had told her that he hoped her grandmother would be okay.

And suddenly she eyed him askance and kept her distance.

Then there had been the couple who wanted to adopt him. He told them he was excited to fill the hole left in their hearts by repeated miscarriages. And the pending adoption evaporated faster than water droplets on a desert rock mid-July.

It was then that he realized that his ability to see visions when he touched a person or an object was unique – not something just anyone could do. Physical contact didn't always lead to paranormal insight and when it did his visions often revealed incredibly mundane daily routines. But apparently, others freaked out when he somehow knew impossible details about their lives no matter how insignificant. 

He had tried to make friends anyway and just never speak of the things that his inner vision revealed, but he found it impossible to keep everything straight and separate. Inevitably, he would always slip up, and his peers would flee.

So, he learned to say only the minimum required – he observed the polite niceties and communicated only his most basic needs. He learned to wear his isolation and loneliness like battle armor – solid and stoic, never letting anyone past his stone walls of protection.

Sometimes it was almost impossible to keep his distance – an accidental brush of skin might reveal a lifetime's worth of memories that stole his ability to breathe.

A nurse at the hospital after he had broken his arm had held him down as they set his cast. In a previous life, she had been the sole survivor of her family after the Black Death had descended upon their tiny community.

A boy at school feared to go home after the bell signaled the day's end. The second he stepped through the front door he tended to retreat to his own room and hide under a solid oak desk with a blanket draping over the opening to offer skant protection against the neverending screaming match that always seemed to be happening between his parents. On the worst nights, the walls would shake as they threw each other against the solid barriers.

 _She_ was another such example. Her golden locks had been tied twice back into high pigtails, leaving her heart shaped face open and bright. She had soft pink lips that were clearly accustomed to smiling, and compelling blue eyes that threatened to steal his soul.

She had crashed into him. Hard.

Both physically and metaphysically.

He saw kingdoms in the sky at the height of glory crash to the blue marble of earth below in a fiery rain. He saw the monsters that haunted the girl's waking and dreaming life alike. And he saw her dreams of dancing amongst the stars with roses in her hair.

"I'm so sorry," she apologized, reaching a hand out to steady both herself and him.

Her words could not be processed and he blinked at her dumbly, his usual unflappable dignified demeanor nowhere to be found.

He managed to string together some words. He didn't remember what they were the second they left his tongue, but clearly they were the wrong ones because her brilliant blue eyes quickly turned sharp with indignation.

And before he could stop her she was dashing away, protecting herself against his verbal assault with hurled insults of her own.

And he was alone once again.

Like always.

He encountered her again that very seem evening. He had saved her from demons that sought to steal away her friend. He found hope again when she turned to him with stars in her eyes, and watched him go with wistful sighs.

Maybe she would relieve the darkness of his isolation with her light.

But when he encountered her as Mamoru she held nothing but disdain, and he felt more alone than ever. How he longed for her affection, even more now.

She would get so close and he tried not to touch her, but she had a habit of crashing straight into him. And every time she did, he learned more about her.

He saw her fiercely protecting an old man in the park in the middle of the night. The next day she was welcoming a new transfer student into her warm circle of friends. She had a little brother her drove her to frustration, but she never stopped saving the best bits of dinner just for him. And she never stopped dreaming of dancing amongst the stars on the gleaming lunar surface.

He felt her devotion to her friends and guardians - the soul bonds that connected them transcended lifetimes. He saw the multitude of tragic incarnations where she had sacrificed herself for them and they for her.

And over time, he stopped trying to avoid contact. Instead he sought after it like an addict obsessed with his next fix. It felt like an invasion of privacy, but he couldn't stop himself. She was his source of light, of joy, of salvation. Standing next to her was the only time he didn't feel exiled to never ending isolation.

And he loved her, not for what she did for him, but what she did for everyone else. She seemed to see everyone for exactly who they were, and she cherished them for it – made them feel seen and understood.

Everyone except for him. But he loved her anyway. 

If only she could see it.

If only she could see him. 

…

A/N: This one had been almost finished for forever, but apparently I needed to be in a particular weird mood to be able to polish and finish it up. Be sure to tell me what you think!


	9. Theme 9: Gratitude

**Theme: Gratitude**

 **Title: Adopted Son**  
 **Note: This one is a sequel to Theme 5 - Motherhood.** I have plans to have two more parts to the motherhood theme, but they will show up sporadically between other themes.

Tsukino Ikuko was Tuxedo Kamen's biggest fan. It hadn't started out that way – she was old enough to be beyond such obsessions, but one evening she had been watching a special news coverage of the latest senshi sighting, and someone had managed to capture footage of a youma battle. Ikuko had never witnessed one before – only read the accounts after the fact. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the recording – her heart fell into a tight knot in the pit of her stomach as she watched the lunar guardian stumble just barely out of the monster's reach time and again. Until she didn't.

The mother of two sucked in the air around her, but she still couldn't breathe, certain she was going to witness her own daughter's mauling on the tiny tube television powerless to do anything.

But before the creature's tusks tore through the nimble girl's form, the masked vigilante swept Sailor Moon out of the way, out of the immediate path of danger.

Ikuko could breathe again, and she knew only one thing. Tuxedo Kamen was the absolute greatest man alive – a literal guardian angel in her book.

From then on, she watched and read every tidbit about him as obsessively as she followed Sailor Moon.

Tonight, it was a tabloid with the headline, "Tuxedo Kamen Getting Some Romance?" The cover image showed the hero with his lips locked on the familiar blond pretty sailor suited warrior.

The picture caught the housewife completely by surprise. The two vigilantes were definitely seen together at a lot of sites and incidents. And though Ikuko knew her daughter had a more than a crush on her partner in crime, the masked hero had always maintained a certain aloofness.

She understood her daughter's feelings. This cloaked stranger had mastered the art of mysterious romanticism, and it would be nearly impossible to be unaffected by someone who saved your life on a regular basis. But despite that, Usagi's feelings for her savior seemed to have faded a bit when she came home one afternoon with the announcement that she had a boyfriend.

A boy she had met at the arcade, a boy whom she never stopped talking about, a boy who motivated her daughter to wake up early and actually study for her exams.

And so, the kiss between the two action heroes upset her. Had Tuxedo Kamen assumed he had a right to kiss her daughter just because he had saved her? Had he even asked for her permission? Was Usagi upset or was she swooning? And how would Mamoru react if he knew of Usagi's alter ego and this little interaction?

"I swear you are more obsessed with Sailor Moon than either of our children!" Kenji affectionately teased, as he poured himself a cup of coffee from the behind her.

She sighed, folding up the offending paper, not wanting him to look too closely at the heroine's picture, not trusting the magic that seemed to keep anyone from recognizing her. If he knew about her volumes of scrapbooks of every newspaper clipping on the subject of vigilantes, he might be worried rather than affectionately amused.

But what mother wouldn't obsessively collect every mention of her children and their accomplishments? She figured, that someday she would give the keepsake to her daughter, or perhaps her grandchildren at some nebulous time in the future when she had presumably revealed her knowledge of her daughter's identity.

Or more morosely, she figured she would have them in remembrance if something ever went completely awry, but she tried not to contemplate that possibility.

"Is Usagi up yet?" she asked him, knowing the girl's sleep had been interrupted by a youma the previous evening.

"I have heard some tossing and moaning, but no panicked screams," he shared as he settled himself at the table with his coffee and the actual official newspaper, which contained no photographs of vigilantes. Kenji insisted that _real_ journalism was above such sensationalism.

If only their daughter had that luxury.

"She hasn't been getting enough rest," she said as she worried her bottom lip. "I want her to sleep in today. I'll send her to school whenever she happens to wake up."

"If you want her to sleep in, you'll have to get Luna out of her room," Kenji suggested, his eyes never straying from the black and white print before him.

Cerulean blue eyes considered her husband with surprise. Perhaps he wasn't _completely_ oblivious. She took a sip of her own coffee, wondering what he knew of their strange house pet before heading up the stairs.

She poked her head into her daughter's room, and sure enough the blond teenaged girl was tangled in pillows and blankets snoring with all the grace of a hippopotamus. She glanced around the room and made eye contact with the black feline that sat primly on top of the tall pink dresser, protectively watching over her young charge. With two steps, she swept the cat into her arms, and confiscated her daughter's alarm clock for good measure before silently making her exit.

"She has seemed so stressed lately Luna. We're going to let her sleep today," she whispered affectionately the way one would to a house pet that didn't understand your words.

Her daughter's advisor meowed in what Ikuko interpreted as acknowledgement, so she set the creature down outside the bedroom door she had just closed, and made her way back downstairs and enjoyed a quiet breakfast with her youngest child and husband before she sent them away with quick kisses good-bye.

Quiet hours passed before her daughter stirred, but when she woke up it was like a bomb had gone off. There was a loud thud as her only warning, then the shrill scream, followed by a whirlwind of activity punctuated with the opening and slamming of various doors.

"Mama! Why didn't you wake me?" the girl demanded a few minutes later as she flew down the stairs. She would have left the house without breakfast if Ikuko hadn't been standing in in front of the door, blocking her path.

"Mama?" Usagi asked uncertainly, standing frozen at the landing at the bottom of the stairs.

"Would you join me for lunch Usagi-chan?" her mother asked, pointing towards the kitchen table.

"Lunch?" the girl repeated with bewilderment. "What time _is_ it? My clock was missing," she said sheepishly. "I probably knocked it off the nightstand in my sleep."

"Your alarm clock is in fine working order," Ikuko explained, pointing to the object on the counter.

"You took it out on purpose? Mama, _what_ is going on?" the girl asked, as she plopped down cooperatively at the table. "Normally, you'd be chasing me out the door at this hour. Is dad okay? Shingo?"

"Your father and brother are fine," she assured. "I have just been worried about _you_ , Usagi-chan. And I wanted to make sure you had some actual rest _and_ some food before you dash off to right all the wrongs in this world."

Ikuko moved about the kitchen, filling up a plate with leftovers from breakfast, careful not to make any eye contact as she spoke, lest she give herself away. She also tried not to glance at the tabloid she had left conspicuously on the table.

She brought her daughter the pile of food she could inhale in a matter of minutes unless Ikuko kept her talking.

"And I miss you. How are you Usagi-chan?"

"Aww! I miss you too mama! I'm okay. I've just been…" the girl trailed off, her attention momentarily stolen by the scandalous portrait as Ikuko had intended. "Is that Sailor Moon and Tuxedo Kamen?" she demanded as her cheeks burned with what was no doubt, embarrassment.

Ikuko suppressed an amused grin. "It must be hard for her," the housewife commented.

"What do you mean?" startled blue eyes flew from the colored print to her mother's face.

"Can you imagine how hard it would be to be a heroine that has to fight nightmarish creatures that shouldn't even be real, only to then be stalked by the press? To find your private moments photographed for all the world to see?"

"It probably totally sucks!" Usagi agreed, filling her mouth with pancakes.

"Does it bother you?" Ikuko asked.

"That Sailor Moon is stalked by the press?" her daughter asked innocently.

"I meant the picture itself. Tuxedo Kamen stealing a kiss from Sailor Moon just because he saved her?"

Usagi laughed. "I think in this picture it was the other way around Mama. Sailor Moon totally saved his butt, and he wanted to say thank you."

"So, you think it was consensual?" her mother asked.

"Definitely consensual!" Usagi sing-songed through a piece of sausage. "Mama!

Sailor Moon and Tuxedo Kamen were _clearly_ meant for one another."

"Are they? I thought you might be a bit envious. I know you had feelings for Tuxedo Kamen."

"Yesterday's news! I have a boyfriend!" the blond girl declared happily as rose to her feet with her empty plate in hand. "One that adores me completely. He knows I have eyes only for him."

Usagi's casual and doting description of both men was like a mental lightning bolt to Ikuko. But just as quickly she felt incredibly silly for never having realized it sooner. Tuxedo Kamen and Chiba Mamoru were the same person. One amazing beautifully fit person, physically capable of protecting her daughter from the scourge of the world, and emotionally capable of stealing the girl's heart.

"You should bring him around Usagi-chan. I would like to meet him," Ikuko suggested seriously, taking a sip of her second cup of coffee.

Usagi blushed. "I don't know mama! I think he would be so nervous about that! Especially around papa."

"Have him come over when your father isn't here. Please? I would really like to meet him seeing as he's become such a big part of your life. How about this afternoon? Your father won't be home until six."

"I… I will ask him," she agreed nervously. "I make no promises."

"When you're trying to convince him, you can tell him that I already love him."

"Mama!" she objected, "How can you know what you think of him?"

"You speak very highly of him, and you're always glowing when you do so."

Her daughter's blush grew threefold. "I'm going to go now. This was a nice chat," the girl said rapidly, clearly feeling extremely self-conscious.

Ikuko couldn't help but chuckle. "Usagi-chan!" she called after the blonde's departing form.

"Yes?"

"Does Mamoru have a favorite food?"

"Uh… he's obsessed with coffee!"

"That's hardly a food."

"He also likes chocolate!"

"You're no help at all," the mother complained. "Don't forget your lunch!" she reminded her as an afterthought, holding out the brown bag.

"I thought we just had lunch!"

"When has that ever stopped you from having another one?" Ikuko responded dryly.

"You're the best!" the girl beamed, as she snatched the packaged meal from her mother's hands. "And thank you for this morning. I feel so refreshed! And since I've already missed Haruna-sensei's class, she can't give me detention! Bye Mama!"

"Bye Usagi-chan!" Ikuko called back between her laughs. "Enjoy the rest of your day!"

Usagi came home that afternoon alone much to Ikuko's disappointment. But her daughter was quick to assure her that Mamoru hadn't actually declined her invitation outright. He had merely needed to postpone by a day. Ikuko felt that this was a fair arrangement. It also meant she had time to convince Kenji to take Shingo out for some father-son bonding the evening in question.

The next morning, she paced frantically around the house tidying, dusting, and vacuuming, as needed in nervous preparation. She tried to calm herself, certain that the boy had far more reason to be nervous than she herself did.

A sudden draft through the kitchen let her know that the front door was open and Usagi's giggling suddenly reverberated through the foyer into the house.

"Mama!" the teenager called. "We've arrived!"

Ikuko slipped off her frilly apron and made her way to the open room. Usagi was nudging Mamoru forward with pulls of his elbow. He stood tall over the two women, broad shoulders filling out his form, dark hair frazzled by today's gusty winds no doubt, and piercing blue eyes that tried to maintain eye contact, but kept nervously darting back to her daughter.

"Mamo-chan, this is my mother, Tsukino Ikuko. Mama, this is my boyfriend, Chiba Mamoru," she introduced formally.

The young man bowed his head slightly, and held out a wrapped gift, an omiyage as any honorable guest would bring to his host. "It's an honor to be invited into your home Tsukino-san."

She accepted the cute wrapped box with a warm smile, placed it on display on a nearby shelf so that she would remember to open it later, and then seized the boy in a hug. He went immediately stiff.

"The honor is mine. And please, call me Ikuko," she requested, already fighting off the threatening burning sensation of potential tears at being in this young man's presence – this man who had saved her daughter's life at least once, no doubt more. But she could not afford to start crying, seeing as she could not sensibly explain her emotional outpouring to her daughter or her guest.

She dabbed at her eyes as she pulled away. She had a different plan to communicate her gratitude.

"I told you," Usagi whispered to him with doting impatience.

With a smile, Ikuko ushered them both into the kitchen and pressed them into seats.

"Usagi-chan didn't know if you had a favorite food besides chocolate and coffee. You'll have to enlighten me in her stead."

He laughed at that, a warm rumbling that resonated from his chest. "I'm certain anything that you make will be amazing – really anything that is fresh is miles ahead of the food I grew up on."

Ikuko smiled. "Your mother was not a cook, huh?"

Mamoru definitely tensed at the casual inquiry, but it was her daughter who leapt to her feet in outrage.

"Mama!" she hissed angrily, but a hand had already reassuringly captured her own, urging her back to the seat.

"It's alright Usako. I learned long ago I needed to have a thicker skin," the young man's thumb tracing patterns into the back of her hand reassuringly as he spoke softly. Usagi whispered something back urgently.

Ikuko wanted to ask what land mine she had clearly stepped on, but she was too engaged with watching the pair interact. Their heads suddenly together as they conferred in whispers to one another. The simple physical affection – not brazen - just a hand on his knee, a squeeze of her hand looking for connection – for comfort. How his eyes – a slightly darker shade of blue, never left hers even when her attention darted constantly around the room. The interaction only took a moment before the two suddenly seemed to come to some kind of consensus and turned their attention back to their hostess.

"Mamo-chan grew up in an orphanage," her daughter finally explained. The one demographic detail caused her to freeze as her chest clenched painfully. "He rarely experienced fresh cooking as a child, but rather mass produced cafeteria food."

"I'm so sorry! I had no idea!"

"It's alright," the teenaged boy interrupted firmly. "It happened a long time ago."

Ikuko hastily turned back to rummaging through the fridge, less she be caught tearing up again.

"I will make one of Usagi's favorites then!"

"Sounds good to me!" her blonde daughter squealed.

Ikuko moved about cutting up vegetables. Usagi quickly got to her feet gathering cutlery and dishes for the table.

"So, Mamoru-san, tell me more about yourself. Where are you going to school?"

"I just started my senior year at Moto-Azabu High School. My favorite class is probably Physics, but I think want to major in pre-med once I make it to university."

"Sounds like a lot of work. What do you like to do for fun?"

Usagi laughed. "Mamo-chan's idea of a good time is reading for hours!"

"What's wrong with that?" Ikuko countered, as she started cutting the orange and green vegetables into smaller bite size pieces.

"Nothing! If he was reading something _good_ – something with a plot, but noooo," she sing songed. "He reads textbooks and autobiographies!"

"I guess I just enjoy learning things," his voice slightly defensive, a tint of red blooming across his cheeks.

"I'm telling you Mama," she explained, as she started to clear the clutter of papers at the end of the dining room table. "You and Papa have nothing to worry about. He's a total nerd!"

"Uh huh," Ikuko agreed sarcastically, thinking of her own nerd of a husband.

"Mama?"

"Yes Usagi?"

"Why do we still have this?" her daughter asked, holding up the tabloid of Sailor Moon and Tuxedo Kamen sharing a kiss.

Ikuko glanced from the sensational photo to the teenaged boy at her kitchen table - his blush had deepened, and his eyes were no longer meeting her own or Usagi's.

"Don't you know Usagi-chan? I'm Tuxedo Kamen's biggest fan!"

" _What_?" the girl burst out. "Since _when_?"

Ikuko shrugged, maintaining her teasing smile. "Since it was enough to irritate you! Obviously."

"Mama!"

"I'm just teasing dear. I seriously do admire him though," she said, making a show of peering over her daughter's shoulder at the snapshot.

"Why?" This time it was Mamoru who was asking, his tone carefully clipped and controlled.

"He's quite dashing," the matriarch commented, not able to resist the teasing.

Usagi's cheeks exploded in red.

"Mama!" she exclaimed, scandalized.

Ikuko grinned. "I didn't mean that I was interested Usagi-chan. You know that I'm happily married. Doesn't mean I don't recognize a handsome specimen."

"Stop talking, right now!" the blonde ordered firmly.

Mamoru rolled with laughter, his tall form finally free of tension. Ikuko supposed that had been one way to break the ice.

"I just appreciate the way he dotes on Sailor Moon," she explained patiently, stirring the soup. "That he is able to support a powerful woman. I imagine she may be quite intimidating."

"Sailor Moon's not intimidating at all. At least, not to Tuxedo Kamen."

"She's not?" Mamoru questioned with one eye brow raised, clearly having a different opinion.

Usagi's blue eyes whirled to him in surprise. "You think he's intimidated by her? But she's _so_ … clutzy! She would have died that first night without him."

He cleared his throat. "And how would you know about Sailor Moon's coordination or complete lack thereof, Usako?"

"I mean… uh… that's what Naru-chan told me. The attack was at her jewelry shop," she said to her mother by way of explanation.

"I remember," Ikuko agreed, still secretly amused.

Usagi continued babbling excitedly. "You _really_ think he is intimidated by her?"

"I cannot truly speak for Tuxedo Kamen," he said, his eyes never waivering from her own. "But if I were in his shoes I think Sailor Moon would be the most intimidating of all the senshi. She is the most passionate about helping others and the most powerful. It would be difficult to feel worthy of her I think."

Usagi blushed again.

Ikuko truly loved this boy – loved the joy he brought to her daughter, and this self-conscious side of her that she did not often see. The respect his showed to her opinion and to her responsibilities. The motivation he offered for Usagi to focus on school, and the protection he gave so willingly. And that he clearly saw her for the treasure that she was and he clearly did not take her for granted. He definitely had surpassed her expectations, and she had already felt he could do no wrong.

"Dinner is ready!" she announced, bringing the steaming bowls to the table, only feeling slightly guilty for interrupting their moment.

The evening progressed too quickly. She didn't want to push the boy's nerves too far by having Kenji come home and threaten him or Shingo teasing Usagi mercilessly for having a boyfriend. So, she wrapped up the meal, and put the dishes away, effectively erasing that the evidence that they had had a guest at all.

"Thank you for inviting me," he spoke as they all made their way to the door.

"Mamoru-kun, you are always welcome here. _Always_ ," she insisted enveloping his offered hand in both of her own.

"Thank you," he whispered, his eyes glassy. "That means a lot to me."

Yes, she imagined that it did. What better way for her to express her gratitude?

A/N: This one has been circling around in my head for awhile. I'm not sure I got the characterizations right – especially Mamoru, but it was fun exploring this head space!

Thanks for all the encouragement from Ghost Man, Astraearose-silvermoon, James Birdsong, TerraDeeEarth, IanBuddy, boston, LovetoRead613, Rufael, FloraOne, NikkiBC, slightlyxjaded, MyIndy13, and Deadly Aura! You guys really keep me motivated!

And feel free to send me some prompts! I have discovered recently that they make me think in a different way!


	10. Theme 10: Unworthy

**Theme** : Unworthy  
 **Title** : Exposed

It had been a routine evening. Well, as routine as fighting paranormal monsters ever could be, but Tuxedo Kamen was rather accustomed to waking up at all hours to aid his favorite blond senshi against the youma of the week! And these encounters were amazingly predictable. She would stay out of the creature's reach, just barely until she didn't, and then he would swoop her out of the way in time. He would say something encouraging and she would smile and then dust the creature.

That was how it was _supposed_ to go.

How it had _always_ gone.

But in his one moment where his timing needed to be absolutely perfect, he had stumbled, tripped over his own blasted cape. In that terrible instant, the wraithlike creature had flung the guardian of the moon against a tree like she weighed no more than a grain of rice. Its fist struck her in the chest right at the red ribbon tied into a perfect bow that she wore around a heart shaped broach, like lightning.

She screamed, not in fear or panic, but in absolute agony – her voice shrill, sending dread crawling across his skin. Flashing colored lights pierced through the blackness of midnight, and her transformation dissolved. He leapt to his feet in panicked anger. He charged forward angrily - a tingling power pooling in his fists. It felt both alien and familiar, and in his righteous rage. He swung his fists – now glowing with golden power into the back of the skull of his unsuspecting foe.

He struck again and again, as his fury consumed him, until the beast turned to ash from the power of his blows.

The girl crumpled to the ground like jelly, and she remained unmoving like a puddle on the ground, her body bathed in moonlight. He approached the blond heroine cautiously – her hairstyle suddenly uniquely and amazingly familiar with the magic of her transformation gone. His chest twisted with mixed emotions he could not name.

 _No_ , it couldn't be her. It wasn't possible. Tsukino Usagi was home safe in her bed, wrapped up in pink blankets and dreaming of ice cream and part time arcade workers. She was not here – putting her life on the line by facing off youmas in the middle of the freezing dark night, protecting people that were ignorant of the fact that their life and world was in danger at all.

She sat up slowly clutching her head.

"Don't try to move too fast," he warned softly, holding out a snow-white gloved hand to steady her. "You may have a concussion."

She jerked her head away from him anyway, pulling her hair in front of her face to hide her identity. But it was too late – he had already seen the flash of blue eyes sparkling in the light of the full moon, and the slight blush of her cheeks.

It _was_ her. And he stood frozen, completely in awe as this barely fifteen-year-old girl collected herself. This girl who barreled down sidewalks as if ghosts were after her, who wailed everytime she got Game Over on the Sailor V arcade game or every time he called her "Odango Atama". _She_ protected all of Tokyo by herself from evil creatures that should not exist at all. And she did it _well_!

Of course, that didn't mean she enjoyed it, but who in their right mind would? His chest tightened with sadness. He really had never wished the responsibility of being Sailor Moon on anyone – least of all Tsukino Usagi, who was bright, joyful, so kind, and so very _young_. She deserved to have carefree afternoons and all the safety and protection that the world had to offer for a young teenage girl.

How disappointed would she be upon discovering the masked hero that she crushed on and adored was none other than the obnoxious older boy her teased her about her hair and her grades? The mysterious man that rescued her was just an orphan who was never adopted because he was too jaded and dark. He feared she would despise him once she knew his name – that she would see the same truth so many others had before they vanished from his life.

He could not live with her scorn. He had never realized it before this moment, but he needed her in his life – he needed her smiles and the compassion she bestowed so easily to others. He needed to crash into her every morning on the way to school and he needed to see the indignation and fiery passion in her eyes at every perceived injustice in the world.

She huddled into a ball, clutching her knees to her chest as she bowed her head down, again hiding her face. The fear pulsing from her form killed him. Had he not yet earned her trust after the dozens of encounters where he fought by her side, defended her from danger?

He clung to the security of anonymity his mask provided even as he put a finger on her chin and urged her to look up at him.

She bit her lip in uncertainty. Her eyes shyly met his own.

"I hope you're not disappointed," she commented, her blue eyes once again shifting away.

The comment threw him. How could she think _she_ was unworthy of _him_?

"Not disappointed at all," he told her sincerely. "Maybe completely terrified," he admitted.

"Terrified?" she repeated in surprise, her eyes widening and landing on his domino mask once again. "Why?"

"Of how you might react to who I am."

"You know me?!"

He gulped and then nodded.

She reached up to his mask. He did not stop her. But her raised hands froze an inch from his face.

"May I?" she asked.

He hesitated. Once she knew, there would be no going back. He would never be Tuxedo Kamen-sama to her again. He would be Mamoru-baka. She didn't look at Mamoru with stars in her eyes. She certainly didn't pine after Chiba Mamoru. To him, she gave scorn, frustration, and scathing impatient comments.

But she was giving him the choice. She _did_ trust him. How could he not return that trust?

He nodded ever so slightly.

He heard the sharp intake of breadth as his naked cobalt blue eyes landed back on her form. She stared at him, unmoving. This time it was his gaze that turned away – focused on the tree behind her.

"So, are _you_?" he asked softly, like a child.

"Am I what?"

"Disappointed?"

Cerulean blue eyes turned to him and smiled. "Relieved actually."

"Relieved?" he repeated, his eyes shooting back to hers.

"Well, it was agonizing having feelings for two different people and not being able to pick a favorite!"

Her words – so unexpected, took a second to register. "You have feelings for Mamoru?" he asked the question, as if he couldn't believe it.

Her cheeks blazed with heat and her eyes dropped. "Kami-sama!" she cursed. "I can't believe I just said that! You must think I'm so ridiculous. There's no way you could feel anything for Usagi. Usagi who cannot even make it to school without tripping over her own feet. Who is clearly so stupid, so silly, and immature for ever thinking that a guy like Chiba Mamoru, let alone Tuxedo Kamen, would ever be ever be interested in her." Her self-condemnation continued. He was both amused and horrified by her words.

He stopped her rambling with a gloved hand to her bare one, squeezing it in an attempt to reassure her.

She looked up at him then, her eyes swirling with something he could not name.

"I thought you hated Mamoru," he whispered.

She shook her head violently in objection.

"Mamoru is real. He knows my name, and I can irritate him immensely. I can confess to my best girlfriend that I like him because he's dignified, intelli…" her eyes jumped up to his and she rapidly turned away with blushing cheeks.

"Tuxedo Kamen is like a celebrity crush," she said, changing the topic ever so slightly. "I mean, no one was really going to take my crush on Tuxedo Kamen seriously. No one knows that I actually know him – that he saves my life on a regular basis. But at the same time, I never see his face. He doesn't even know my name. And how can you really fall in love when you can't look into someone's eyes?"

She looked up at him then – with swirling compelling blue crystals – as if looking into his soul. He felt more vulnerable than he ever had – felt himself slipping – like he was going to be forever lost.

The only thing that saved him from bolting that instant was that she was there, standing before him just as nervous - just as vulnerable.

Why was she nervous?

He cleared his throat, searching for words. But he couldn't find any. Words were inadequate to describe the feelings that were bubbling in his chest – that suddenly felt light and free, instead of tightly twisted into a knot of tension.

"It's okay if you don't feel the same," she said into the extended silence. "Just because we're Sailor Moon and Tuxedo Kamen, doesn't mean anything has to change."

Her voice was calm, but her eyes were glassy with suppressed hurt. Kami-sama, why was he so bad at this? He was so good at hurting her whether it was with thoughtless words about her hair or his inability to express how he felt.

"No," he said. "I want things to change. How could they not?"

"What do you mean?"

"I'm sorry," he said, nervously running a hand through his hair, only to knock the top hat he had forgotten was there, to the ground. "I don't know my way around words sometimes, especially when it comes to feelings. But Usako, you have always amazed me and I don't want things to stay the same. I want… I want to be with you. I always have. My feelings for Sailor Moon confused me. But the fact that you are her, simplifies everything. So, I want to be with you. I mean, if you'll have me," Now, he was the one rambling.

She grinned. And suddenly she was in his space, her lips were on his. And he wasn't sure he knew what to do with that either, except he didn't want her to think he didn't welcome her touch as he had let her for a moment believe that he didn't welcome her feelings, so of course he was kissing her back.

Normally, he hated it when his routine was broken. The routine was reliable and sure, the _one_ aspect of his life where he could feel certain and secure.

But when she pulled away, a grin as bright as the moon glowing from her face and her cerulean blue eyes sparkling with sudden joy he was excited for the shift, for the change. Almost glad he had stumbled for once in his life.

And as lost as he was in her gaze, he could not resist her, and this time it was he who pulled her back into another kiss where he tried to pour all the passion and awe for her that he could not articulate to his own satisfaction.

A/N: Awkward and unsure Mamoru is fun to play with. Hope you enjoyed. Send me prompts on Tumblr to give me ideas!

Reviews are love!


	11. Theme 11: Secrecy

A/N: The inspiration for today's reveals is coming from a multitude of helpful people.

FloraOne challenged me to write a reveal where Usagi and Mamoru were already together, but still unaware of one another's identities sort've Mr. & Mrs. Smith style!

But _then_ , RogueAlly (rogueallyunabridged on Tumblr) sent me another prompt that twisted and subverted it a bit. A reveal where Usagi and Mamoru already both know the other's identities, but haven't revealed their knowledge of one another to the other.

And then this was born! And with some input from my favorite beta reader (my husband) it was finished up in record time!

Hope you enjoy! 

…

 **Theme: Secrecy  
Title: The Secret is There is No Secret  
**  
Chiba Mamoru's face lit up in a heartfelt grin as his girlfriend of almost five years bounced into the seat across from him. The restaurant was not the most elegant, nor did it have the best food in town, but it had become one of their favorites as it was where their relationship had begun.

"Sorry I'm late," the petite blond uttered. "I just lost track of time."

"Think nothing of it Usako," he assured her. Truth be told, he had given her a time half an hour earlier than his actual reservation knowing she would be late. She was always late. He had only been waiting for five minutes. "I'm just glad to see you."

And he was. Her warm presence always cheered him, but he was especially affected after such a long and frustrating week. Between immunology midterms, the dissection he had apparently completely botched, and the sleep that had been stolen by Tuxedo Kamen's responsibilities, he was feeling rather thin.

"Me too Mamo-chan!" she squealed joyfully, sliding her chair to the side of their table so that she could take his hand under the tablecloth. Their fingers quickly and automatically interlaced. "I've missed you."

He leaned forward, placing a chaste kiss against her soft pink lips. "Me too Usako," he whispered into her ear, earning a giggle from her throat. He stared into her smiling crystal blue eyes wondering how he managed to become this woman's boyfriend – how he had earned her affection and love.

Motoki had set him up on a "blind" date that he only agreed to participate in because he had lost a bet. When he had arrived, his blond friend had been waiting for him at the entrance to remind him that he had agreed to sit through the entire evening and that he wasn't allowed to back out no matter what. The reminder hadn't made sense at first. Mamoru was nothing if not a man of his word, and Motoki had no reason to doubt that.

It had only been when his eyes had landed on the nineteen-year-old version of his old childhood "nemesis", that he froze completely, the adam's apple in his throat convulsing violently. He had almost stormed out in that instant, bet or no bet. He had vowed to himself years ago to keep the blond girl he teased, but secretly – or not so secretly, depending on who you asked – obsessed over, out of his life. Not because he hadn't been interested. He had _always_ been interested in Tsukino Usagi. It was because he cared about her too much to let his darkness touch her bright world. And he definitely never wanted to put her in danger with his alter ego's baggage.

But he had seen the flash of hurt cross her sapphire eyes as she took in his rigid form that turned to bolt, and of course he had to correct her misperception. He didn't hate her – never had. Quite the opposite in fact. And in mere moments he was a dissembling mess, confessing his feelings to the glassy eyed blond. Their first date had gone beautifully after that. And once he had gotten a taste, vow or no vow, he hadn't been able to let her go.

Really it was the best mistake he had ever made in his life. One he hoped to continue for the rest of their lives, he thought, fingering the small velvet jewelry box hidden in his suit pocket with his free hand.

He was trying to wait to ask her until the perfect moment. It would be their fifth-year anniversary in two weeks' time. Surely, that would be a suitable day. But ever since he had bought the ring, he kept in on him – wanting more than ever to show it to her, to share it with her.

"I'm sorry that I've been so out of touch this week," she told him, interrupting his thoughts. "The girls have needed me to help plan this event at the temple."

He sighed. It was a lie. She lied to him often, and it was probably the only reason he had managed to hold himself back from popping the question half a dozen times.

But he couldn't be angry. He had long since figured out what she hid from him. He only wished that she would tell him.

"Is it going well?" he asked.

"Very well!" she exclaimed. "For weeks, it seemed all of our work was going to amount to nothing, but now everything is finally falling into place perfectly."

Well, that was good. Perhaps the senshi had identified this new enemy's motivation and plans finally.

"I'm glad," he said simply, not wanting to provoke further falsehoods from her sweet lips with follow up questions. "What about the rest of your day?"

By day, his girlfriend – hopefully soon-to-be-fiancé – was a social worker, and a damn fine one in his opinion. He was convinced that she did just as much to heal and protect the vulnerable in the city of Tokyo by day as she did as her alter ego, Sailor Moon.

He listened in rapt attention as she took him through her work day in excruciating detail. It was easy to hang on every word when her whole body lit up with passion and excitement for the kids that she worked with as they made progress or landed into a good home – many of them orphans or foster children. How much better might his childhood have been, had he had a benefactor or mentor like her clearing road blocks out of his way and cheering for his success on the sidelines?

A waitress arrived and scurried off with their orders, and they were left once again just staring into one another's eyes as if they were windows into one another's souls. Her eyes darted to their clasped hands, a delightful blush rising to her cheeks. Kami-sama, he loved her so much.

"I love you," she whispered, almost as if reading his mind.

He reached for the jewelry box. He didn't need to wait anymore. But before the little box was free of his pocket, a familiar alarm sliced through the air, freezing him in place.

She made a show of glancing at her phone, but he knew the sound came from the supposed watch on her wrist.

"I'm sorry Mamo-chan. I have to run!" she explained as she rose to her feet. She leaned forward with a quick farewell kiss. "Minako says it's an emergency."

"Of course," he agreed with a smile, letting her dash away in a whirlwind without objection. He placed a few bills on the table that would more than cover the meals that had yet to arrive, and made his own exit not waiting for the paranormal summons that signaled Sailor Moon's urgent need of his support.

They hadn't been dating long when Mamoru figured it out. Usagi would dart away like a category five hurricane was after her in the middle of a date with some lame excuse or "emergency", and a minute or two later he would feel her transformation. She had admittedly gotten better at explaining away her disappearing act the longer they had been together, and he never questioned her excuses once he realized what was going on.

He wanted her to know that he trusted her completely, trusted her enough to let the falsehoods fly, knowing they served a greater purpose. He couldn't help but wonder though, how long she would keep it a secret from him. What milestone in their relationship did they need to reach before she would trust him?

He allowed the thrum of golden power he always held just under his skin to envelop his form – transforming him into the caped vigilante who would always leap into harm's way to support his heroine, even if she didn't trust him enough to reveal her identity to him.

…

Usagi dashed away from the table regretfully. The way his eyes had been falling into her, she had half expected him to propose. But she had looked away – trying to break the intimacy. She didn't want him to – not yet anyway.

She wanted to be his fiancé and wife. As far as she was concerned, they had an almost perfect relationship. He was her anchor when the harsh realities of the world battered her idealistic optimism until only tattered rags remained. And she kept him warm when he felt inadequate and alone, serving as an emotional shelter to a young boy who struggled with his sense of worth.

They were just exactly what the other needed.

She dashed across rooftops mindlessly, not noticing the skyline or the wind that buffeted her hair and fuku. Instead, she thought of their first date, whose anniversary was approaching in two short weeks.

Minako had even managed to get her to show up on time with the promise that her blind date was as handsome and eloquent as Chiba Mamoru, her longtime school crush, but far more mature and charming than her old tormentor had ever been. Usagi had been skeptical that Minako could deliver on that promise, but then Mamoru himself had walked in, and she had temporarily forgotten how to breathe.

And when he had frozen, his fist clenched at his sides, she had feared the worst – that he had hated her all along, that her presence in that restaurant disgusted and disappointed him. But then he was sitting right next to her, had taken her hand in both of his own, and preceded to tell her exactly how wrong her doubts and fears were.

And Minako had been more than accurate in her assessment. Chiba Mamoru had grown up, become more charming, and he clearly knew how to treat a woman with respect. He had come so far from his seventeen-year-old self. And she had been completely smitten with his compelling midnight blue eyes that seemed to see straight through her.

He was perfect. _They_ were perfect.

Except for one pesky detail. That was where the "almost" in "almost perfect relationship" came in.

He hadn't shared all of himself with her. He had shared his feelings about her, he had shared his dreams, and his fears that his responsibilities might surpass his abilities. He had even shared his tragic past, and that he was an orphan. But he had never actually told her about his alter ego.

They had been together for just over a year when she had figured it out. Tuxedo Kamen had taken a hit to his left quad during a youma encounter. He had been incredibly lucky – the lance had missed his artery by a centimeter only. And as Sailor Moon, she had administered first aid to the wound like a mother fussing over her firstborn child.

"I'll be fine," he had assured her with a dazzling smile. "I heal really fast."

And she herself was no stranger to accelerated healing, which is probably the only reason she had recognized the wound two days later when she happened to be spending the night with her boyfriend. The cut looked like it had happened weeks ago, but the jagged line was the same shape. She knew without a doubt what had caused it, and therefore who he was.

She had almost blurted out her realization right then. Sometimes, she wished that she had. But she had bit her tongue because she wanted him to be the one to share his secret when he was ready.

Except it seemed that he never would be ready. And that fact sometimes upset her immensely. Did he not think her strong enough to handle the truth? 

Or worse, she sometimes wondered if her boyfriend hid his alter ego and paranormal nightly activities from her because he harbored feelings for Sailor Moon. She worried that her civilian form couldn't live up to the mystery of the heroine, and that her boyfriend was secretly in love with this other woman.

"Don't be ridiculous," Rei had told her. "Even if he is half in love with Sailor Moon, it's not another woman! You're jealous of yourself."

"He probably hasn't told you because of some stupid male over protectiveness thing," Minako agreed with her raven-haired girlfriend. "You really should just tell him you know."

But Usagi could never bring herself to do that. She never wanted to pressure him to tell her anything he didn't want to.

She even felt like she couldn't tell him that she was Sailor Moon, for fear _that_ would pressure him to share his secrets before he was ready.

She arrived at the battle distracted by her thoughts. Sailor Jupiter was handling the droid, and Mercury was providing cover. Sailor Moon watched them coordinate their movements with pride. They had all come so far in the eight years they had been fighting together.

She hadn't noticed the second droid at all – let alone it's strike heading straight for her vulnerable and exposed back.

She gasped as she was violently barreled over, shoved onto the ground with such force that her breath fled her. She struggled to recover the life-giving air as she blinked up at her rescuer – familiar cobalt eyes half hidden by a white domino mask glaring down at her like a swarm of angry bees.

He rolled her to her feet, and quickly released her. Her sisters in arms quickly took care of the threat, her own skills not particularly needed at this battle. At least not this time.

"Sailor Moon!" Venus called. "Are you alright?"

"Fine," the Lunar Guardian smiled back. "Just rattled. Don't worry about it. I will see you tomorrow."

And with the reassurance the other four senshi nodded with smiles and darted off in three different directions, Venus and Mars heading off together, no doubt to return to their own date.

She wasn't alone. She could still feel his angry aura sparking like a series of solar flares from half a dozen paces away. She froze, waiting to see what he would do.

Instead of flying off as he usually did, he was invading her space – only a hand's width away from her face, his piercing gaze tearing through her. She took a step back, to get away from his intensity but he followed her.

"What the hell was that?" he demanded.

She shrugged defensively. "It's not like it was my first brush with death."

"It was your first time in years for something so mundane!" he countered. "You are better than such clumsy mistakes now. Your head was up in the clouds!" he accused. "After all these years, you should have learned how to set your personal life aside, and only focus on the battle!"

"What do you care?" she snapped back.

"What do I _care_?!" his gloved hand clenched around his cane. "Have I not been at your side – supporting you, protecting you for these last eight years? You think that I don't care about you and your well-being?"

He leaned forward into her space again. And this time she didn't back away, unintimidated by his physical aggression.

He was so close – they were sharing the same air. He was going to kiss her. She felt her throat constrict and her eyes threaten tears. His actions devastated her – that he would kiss another who was not her. All her fears that he loved the lunar guardian more than he loved her seemed to crystallize into reality.

Before her heart could shatter into a million pieces, he jerked away. He took off his hat, and tore his hands through his head of hair, before absently replacing it again as he caught himself in the nervous habit.

"I'm sorry," he said roughly. "I can't. There's someone else for me."

"Yeah," she agreed, eyeing his mask. How would he react if she just tossed it aside? "Me too."

Why couldn't he trust that she was strong enough? Did he not see it? Could he not see she was standing right in front of him?

… 

He couldn't breathe, sudden nausea bubbled up within him. She hadn't resisted his advance. She was going to let him kiss her.

It had never been his intention to test her fidelity. He had simply been a man terrified of losing the woman he loved, relieved beyond measure that she stood before him in one piece. All the emotion that he couldn't put into words he had put it into action instead.

But at the last minute, he remembered that they were transformed. That she didn't know who he was. But she had been going to let him kiss her.

"Usako…" he whispered brokenly. "Do you love him? Or me?" he asked, fearing her answer.

"W…what did you just call me?" she gasped.

"Usako," he repeated louder, his heart pounding so hard he could hear it in his ears. "Do you love him? Or me?"

"H-how long have you known I was Sailor Moon?" she demanded, ignoring his desperate question.

He searched her wide-eyes, swirling with feelings he could not label. He didn't like not being able to read her. "Probably like two weeks after we started dating," he finally admitted to her. "Do you love him more than me?" he made himself ask for the third time, impatience flooding his form, making his skin crawl with adrenaline that had no place to go, no enemy to fight.

"What are you talking about?" her own hands balled into fists on either side of her petite stiff form, her eyes wild and frantic in true confusion.

"Tuxedo Kamen?" he clarified. "Do you love him, more than me? It's just… you were going to let him kiss you."

"Mamoru-baka!" she shrieked. "I've known that you were him for years. Why did _you_ never tell me?"

"I just wanted you to choose _me,_ even if I was nothing but ordinary," his voice small, uncertain, and afraid.

"Don't you see Mamo-chan? I _did_ choose you!" she took his hands in her own. "I didn't realize you and him were the same at first. I was with _you_! For like a solid _year_ – happier than I had ever been – before I realized you were _also_ my paranormal partner in crime. And it was only then, that I was sad – that you had never told me, never shared all of yourself with me."

"Why did you never tell me?" he countered, clutching the hands she had given him tightly within his own. He gripped her so hard, he wondered if he was hurting her, but he couldn't let her go.

Her gaze dropped to their joined hands. "I didn't want to pressure you," she said softly.

"Usako," he entreated, praying her eyes would rise back up to his own. "I'm sorry. I never realized you already knew. If I had..." he trailed off searching for words.

"If you had you would have _what_?" she echoed coldly, her blue eyes now hard as ice. "Wait a second! Were you trying to _test_ me?" she demanded angrily, tearing from his grip, and pounding angrily into his shoulder with the side of her gloved fist. "Is that why you tried to kiss me as _him_?!"

"No!" he insisted. "I just… you almost died Usako! I wanted… I needed to feel you – needed to know you were okay and still here with me."

"I am _not_ okay!" she screamed. "I am angry that you never told me. I thought you didn't think I was strong enough to handle it. That you thought I was just some airhead ditz that needed your protection. I just wanted you to share everything with me," she ended softly, a single tear trailing down her cheek.

He brushed the tear from her cheek with his thumb. "Please don't cry Usako. I'm sorry. You are the strongest most resilient woman I have _ever_ met. I never thought you couldn't handle it. Clearly," he said emphatically, gesturing to her fuku uniform, "You handle it quite well. I… I was hurt… that you never shared your identity either. I thought you didn't trust me."

She dissolved into hysterical crying… or maybe laughter, he wasn't certain. Her knees buckled, but he caught her – supported her petite form, pressed her up against his chest, clinging to the fact that he could feel her heartbeat pulsing against his form.

"I love you Usako," his whispered into her ear. "I hope you know that I chose you over Sailor Moon, the second I decided to sit down at that table on our first date. And I never stopped loving you even once I knew realized you had kept a secret."

"I love _you_ Mamo-chan," she managed through her tears. "And I'm sorry too. I realize how unfair it was of me to expect you to share everything when I had not."

"We've been remarkably stupid haven't we?" he realized aloud.

She giggled hysterically, the bulge of wet still forming in her blue eyes, as she nodded emphatically. He clutched her to his chest again, afraid to ever let her go, terrified of how many times he had no doubt hurt her with his silence and his own unshared secret.

"Is okay if I kiss you now?" he asked.

She nodded enthusiastically, "I can't w…"

He smothered whatever she had been about to say with a desperate need to feel her beneath his lips, lost himself as they shared the same air. Until he had to break away if only so he could breathe to spend at least one more moment with her.

"You were saying?" he asked.

"I couldn't wait to see if Tuxedo Kamen was a better kisser."

He laughed, and this time she swallowed the sound with another searing kiss of her own.

"And?" he asked, when they broke apart with small gasps.

"Nope, I like Mamoru better," she gushed out quickly, pulling him by his lapels into yet another kiss.

"Huh?" he pulled away, confused.

"It's the mask and hat I think. They get in the way," she complained.

He tore them aside, and then seized both sides of her face in his hands as he crushed his lips against her own. "Better?" he asked, breathless.

"Much."

"Usako?" he asked after another kiss.

"Yes?"

"Will you marry me?"

She stopped kissing him then, pulled away and stared at him. And once again, he found himself unable to read the countless emotions that fluttered across her face. His stomach dropped like an anvil, as his nerves caught up to him at her continued silence.

His abdominal muscles loosened only when her face lit up with a grin, her eyes glinting with humor.

"No," she said firmly.

"No?" he repeated in shock, so certain that with everything out in the open that she would never utter a denial. He took a small step back, carefully untangling his form from hers, as he tried to bring up his wall – the impassive stoicism that would protect what was left of his heart if she chose to crush it. 

She took a step forward, following him – taking his gloved hand in her own. "I already told you Tuxedo Kamen-sama," she said gently. "There is someone else in my life."

The sparkle in her blue eyes was still there, and he breathed a sigh of relief as he understood what she was telling him all over again. "Aw, I see," he tried to stay stoic, but he couldn't fight off the silly grin that had plastered itself to his face. "Let me rephrase my question."

She smiled up at him, her cerulean eyes never blinking as she waited on baited breath for his next words.

"Will you consent to be the wife of one Chiba Mamoru?" he asked instead.

"I would love nothing more," she said, smiling against his lips before she kissed him again.

"Wait," he said stepping back slightly, even as he was fumbling in his pocket for the damned velvet jewelry box. It tumbled to the ground as soon as he managed to free the damned thing. She darted for it before he could intercede. She opened it and her face softened in a beautifully genuine smile.

"How long have you had this?" she asked him, her bright eyes as the blue orbs searched his face.

"Too long!" he growled, as he plucked the ring from its soft pedestal. "You would not believe how many times I have been interrupted by Sailor Moon. I was really beginning to resent her!"

She laughed – a joyous sound that he would never tire of. "You and me both," she said holding out her hand, so he could slip it on the correct finger. When he was finished, she held it up catching the moonlight causing the pink sapphire to sparkle. "It's beautiful. Thank you."

He said nothing, too mesmerized by the content, almost silly smile on her face.

"Can we head to your place?" she suddenly asked, her attention finally tearing from the gemstone on her pink back to his eyes.

"I'm sure we have a lot more to talk about," he agreed.

"Oh sure, but I was hoping before that we might get rid of the excessive layers of your tuxedo and celebrate properly," she was moving away, tugging at his hand for him to follow. 

He had no objection to that – only too delighted to see her wearing only that ring.

…

A/N: My husband's reaction to my draft was actually an excited, "This is us!". Of course, it is love. Almost all of my romance writing has been inspired by our experiences together. I asked him if it bothered him. He said no – that he found it touching! Time for a happy dance!

Reviews are love!

Prompts are nice too as you can see! Send them to Kasienda on Tumblr.


	12. Theme 12: Meet the Parents

A/N:  
This is a continuation of my Motherhood story arc. Part 1 is Theme 5: Motherhood. Part 2 is Theme 9: Gratitude. The idea for this one was born out of the same brainstorming session with FloraOne that led to the most recent reveal. This one is from Kenji's perspective. My goal was to make him both somewhat protective and somewhat of a feminist. You'll have to tell me how I did. 

… 

**Motherhood Part III  
Theme: Meet the Parents**

Tsukino Kenji usually had to work for his scoops, but every now and again lady luck would bless him. But over the years, he had learned that the best stories usually had an element of both luck and insane scrupulous attention to detail.

He definitely was not feeling lucky tonight. His wife had promised him his favorite dish, baked Tonkatsu for dinner, but he had been called in to cover for an ailing colleague on a stake out. So instead of crispy pork, he was left with cheap take out and stale coffee in the front seat of his car where it was so cold he could see his breath, with his binoculars trained on the penthouse window of pop star, Namie Amuro. Rumor had it she was having an affair with one of her dancers. It was his assignment to deliver a name.

It was clear the woman had a guest, but so far, the only instance they had been close enough to the window he had only managed to catch her face. And that had been an hour ago. He doubted anything more would happen tonight, but the lights were still on and so he was not allowed to leave. He sighed.

His view suddenly darkened, as something swept through his viewing angle, usually a bird, but he dropped the binoculars anyway, in search of the unexpected movement.

He nearly dropped the viewing lenses in shock, watching in disbelief as the caped well-known vigilante and jewel thief, Tuxedo Kamen, stuck an impossible landing on the top of the adjacent high rise building, before his flowing black cape fluttered from view.

"Shit!" Kenji cursed five seconds later, banging his head against the steering wheel and sending his glasses tumbling into his lap. He hadn't gotten a picture!

He forced himself to breathe. He had been at the wrong angle for a good shot anyway. And it's not like the vigilantes were breaking news the way they once were, seeing as they had made an active presence in the tabloids for just over a year now, and they had never been featured in a _legitimate_ paper, so his boss probably wouldn't consider it too much of a lost opportunity.

None of that kept him from following up on the sighting the next day, however. He always followed up on leads, no matter how slim.

"Kaito-san," he greeted as he arrived at his desk. "Where was the senshi battle last night?"

Surprised brown eyes jerked up to his attention. "Senshi battle? I don't think there was one. Unless, you heard something that I didn't."

"No," Kenji agreed dismissively. "I just thought I overheard someone talking about it on the subway. I probably just misheard."

Interesting. Kaito was typically knee-deep in the latest senshi gossip, so if he didn't know of a battle there probably hadn't been one. His wife was the only person in his life who could give him better information on the latest exploits of the senshi than Kaito, but he refused to allow work and home life to spill into one another.

Assuming Kaito was correct, that meant the vigilante was in the Azabu district for an entirely different purpose? Perhaps, he was scoping out a potential target. Many seemed to have forgotten that the masked man had made his original reputation as a jewel thief.

Of course, his purpose could be far more mundane, Kenji mused, pushing his spectacles higher on the bridge of his nose, before settling into his desk. There had to be a way to find out.

After turning in an unrelated article on the Art Museum's new exhibit, he spent most of his time researching Tuxedo Kamen sightings over the last year. Until his eyes started twitching from staring at the screen too long. He tossed his glasses onto the desk and allowed his lids to fall closed over his irritated irises.

It would be much easier to look at all of this on paper, so he could look at it all simultaneously. It was probably time to head home anyway, he realized glancing at his watch for the time – it was well past time when his family would be asleep. He hated not being able to be home more often. But such was the life of a journalist.

The house was dark and quiet, and he really should have gone straight to bed, but his mind was active and spiraling with possible explanations for the vigilante's presence.

So instead, he moved into Ikuko's home office and opened a file cabinet at the corner of the desk and pulled out her secret tabloid obsession. His wife collected and saved everything on the senshi – Sailor Moon seemed to be a personal favorite, but she had everything regarding his tuxedo wearing object of interest. The habit amused him greatly, especially since she felt compelled to keep the collection a secret from him. He certainly didn't feel threatened by his wife's obsession with the celebrity gossip. Such obsessions gave him job security!

He took the stack of tabloid photos and articles and spread them out across the kitchen table, looking for locations of sightings. Most tabloids didn't identify the location their photographs were taken – one couldn't expect such attention to detail from a tabloid, but Kenji was all over Tokyo enough to recognize most skylines or the buildings belonging to a particular neighborhood.

The sightings of Tuxedo Kamen and Sailor Moon together tended to correlate with the location of various attacks. But there were more than a few pictures – many of them blurry with the vigilante in motion that were within the Azabu neighborhood, and they were dated far enough apart that it was unlikely that it was an investigation or scope out of a potential target.

Perhaps, he lived there.

Kenji froze, and dropped the clipping he had been considering back to the table with a pleased grin. He was going to unmask this vigilante for all the world to see.

It was simply a matter of catching the individual in the act.

He returned to the neighborhood every night he didn't have an assignment over the next two weeks. He had his camera and he managed to catch the masked man in the area three times. Other reports suggested there had been five attacks during that time. He had taken careful notes on the location of the sighting and the direction of travel.

With the three vectors he should be able to narrow down the location a lot. He flattened a map of Azabu across his kitchen table, and traced in the latest trajectory onto the map in company with the other two. The three lines didn't quite intersect at the same place, but they formed a triangle that framed two buildings. He was willing to bet that Tuxedo Kamen took up residence in one of them.

The fourth sighting he had been lucky once again, on a stake out of the two luxury apartment complexes. Kenji had witnessed the exact balcony, four floors from the top on the east side of the building, the masked man had landed on, and then slipped into. He could get an address from that and then the name of an occupant. 

Tsukino Kenji was going to blow this case wide open, he was going to catch the jewelry thief, and bring this vigilante to justice. And his investigation would earn him a promotion for sure.

He woke up the next morning, eager to pursue his breakthrough.

"You're in a good mood," Ikuko commented, placing a steaming mug of coffee before him.

"I made a breakthrough in a story last night. Just have to finalize some details. I think this could be a big deal for us."

"That's wonderful dear. I hope it pans out!"

"I'm telling you onee-san, she was amazing!" Shingo gushed excitedly as he and Usagi took their seats at the table. "She just shot in out of nowhere and took out the monster like it was _nothing_! She saved Mika-chan!"

"Actually, it was Tuxedo Kamen sama that saved your girlfriend," Usagi corrected with an amused smile. "Though Sailor Moon definitely did kick the youma's butt."

"She's not my girlfriend!"

Kenji smiled in amusement at his son's indignation and embarrassment from the label.

"And how would _you_ know?" the boy demanded angrily of his sister. "You weren't even there!"

"I… uh… you're probably right," she agreed quickly. "I wasn't there. You were a direct witness. You would definitely know better than some tabloid I read last night."

"What happened?" Kenji interjected with concern. "You were at a senshi battle Shingo-kun? Are you all right?"

"I'm fine dad!" the boy waved dismissively as he tore through the pancake Ikuko had just placed on the table, before joining the three of them. "The senshi and Tuxedo Kamen saved the day before anything could happen."

"We're lucky to have such guardians protecting Tokyo," his wife agreed with a smile. "Now, please eat your breakfast before it gets cold."

Kenji stiffened, his pancake frozen halfway to his mouth. His entire family loved the vigilantes. How much would they hate him for bringing one of them down? Could he do it knowing the man he tried to bring to justice had just aided in the rescue and safe return of his own son?

But he also couldn't drop the story. It was too _big_! A potential career making story of a lifetime.

An hour later, he knocked on a dark green door on the high rise luxury home of his target.

"Usa-!" a voice began, as the door flew open. The young man started, as if expecting someone else entirely. "Umm… can I help you sir?"

"Tsukino Kenji," he spoke rapidly, flashing his press credentials. "You are Chiba Mamoru and I know that you're also Tuxedo Kamen…"

The raven-haired man before him, who looked flustered and confused a second ago, suddenly went rigid – the tension of a trained fighter reacting to an unexpected confrontation. It was all the confirmation Kenji needed.

"… the vigilante and thief. If you don't want me to reveal your identify, you will give me an interview."

Mamoru moved an arm to the back of his neck, as if with nerves. Kenji tried to ascertain whether the move had been calculated or genuine. "I'm sorry… I have no idea what you're talking about… uh, what was your name again?"

"Tsukino Kenji – reporter for the Japan Times."

Did Kenji imagine it, or did the young man's face go pale at that introduction?

"And I have photographic evidence," he continued, "that Tuxedo Kamen landed here in this apartment last night at 10:52 pm. I will release it with my exposé. If you want any say in what comes out you will talk to me now. I can come inside or we can go somewhere more public if you prefer." 

Dark cobalt eyes considered him coldly, his whole form unmoving.

Kenji felt his own nerves catch up with him. Here he was threatening a vigilante on his own when no one – not his coworkers, not his wife – knew where he was. A vigilante with supposed super paranormal powers.

He clearly hadn't thought this through completely. Kenji considered bolting back the way he came. And in that moment the young man took a step back, opened the door widely, and gestured grandly for Kenji to make an entrance.

"Can I get you anything?" Chiba offered formally, as if he were an honored guest rather than a pushy reporter invading his private space.

Kenji shook his head. "No, that is quite alright. We can just stick to the interview."

The dark haired young man nodded, and gestured for him to take a seat as he did so himself.

"I'm studying to be a doctor," Chiba began without prompting or explanation. "Tuxedo Kamen comes here on occasion seeking medical attention for his wounds."

Kenji didn't buy this explanation at all. "You treat him unlicensed?" Kenji countered coldly. "You're willing to risk your entire career for someone who wears a mask?"

"The mask serves a greater purpose."

"To hide a criminal's face," Kenji countered.

"It's not about anonymity. It's about being a symbol. A man is fragile. When you find yourself face to face with a creature that should not exist – you don't have faith in a mere mortal to save you. So the savior has to be beyond life – as magical and paranormal as the danger itself. It's to give hope."

"Touching words," Kenji commented dryly feeling the answer was too perfect – like it had been through the PR machine a time of too. Though if he was being completely honest with himself the sentiment reminded him far too much of both his wife and daughter. "Doesn't change the fact that if you're treating someone without a license, you are risking your career for a thief and a criminal."

"Has he actually ever stolen anything?" Chiba countered.

Kenji stiffened in surprise. He had to think about it, but he couldn't recall a single record of stolen merchandise. Break-ins? There had been dozens! But nothing was ever found missing after the fact.

"That's hardly a case for innocence. Just means, you didn't find what you were looking for."

"He was wrong about the crystal. He didn't understand what it was and was looking for it in all the wrong places. It was never meant to be his. Sailor Moon has it now, and she uses it to protect others. It was discovered - never stolen. And since then, he has dedicated himself to protecting others by fighting youmas and their ilk with the Sailor Senshi."

Kenji was slightly impressed despite himself. The man before him was calm and collected – if he was ruffled by any of Kenji's questions or accusations, he didn't show it. He had admitted nothing, though the reporter was not remotely convinced that this man wasn't the masked vigilante. He knew too much to be innocent. But the young man sitting across from him, still provided explanations against Kenji's suspicions. Clearly had found a greater purpose than thievery, was making a difference if even half of what his wife told him was true, and he was really just a kid.

That didn't excuse the crimes he had committed in Kenji's mind. He had definitely trespassed, committed vandalism, and now was essentially serving as an illegal vigilante outside the guidelines or oversight from society on whole. But he was intrigued.

"What is it like leading a double life?"

"I wouldn't know."

The reporter rolled his eyes at his continued denials.

"What do you _imagine_ it's like?" Kenji asked instead.

Kenji's final written article had been half tabloid identity reveal and half a human-interest piece that he hoped humanized the boy he was exposing. He was actually thrilled with the work. He printed it out, and placed it in a yellow letter sized envelope. He put a bow on it for good measure, before driving home a solid two hours early. He wanted to gift the draft to his wife – so she could add the piece to her senshi collection.

He didn't expect to come home to Ikuko entertaining a guest. She had mentioned nothing to him.

He expected said guest to be Chiba Mamoru even less.

His hands tightened rigidly over the envelope he had planned to present proudly.

"Kenji!" his wife greeted warmly. "You're home early!"

"I wanted to surprise you. I didn't realize we were expecting guests," his eyes drilled smoldering holes into the black-haired youth who sat next to his teenaged daughter. 

Usagi laughed nervously. "Papa, please don't be mad," his daughter begged.

"Mad?" he repeated, confused. "Why would I be mad?" his spectacled eyes still never leaving the stranger's form. The part time vigilante sat stiffly in his seat and made no move towards him – he said nothing.

"Uh… no reason?" she squeaked out, her eyes swirled with nerves, clearly telling a different story.

"I will be the judge of that. May I speak with you privately for a moment Chiba-san?" he managed to string the whole sentence together calmly, betraying none of the tension and panic he felt at this man's presence in his home.

Cobalt-blue eyes swam, and the young man nodded in ascent before rising to his feet without a word.

"Wait!" Usagi objected. "You two know each other?"

Even Ikuko raised an eyebrow at him in surprise.

Kenji offered his daughter and wife no explanation, but instead followed the aspiring doctor and part time masked crusader into the living room.

"What are _you_ doing here?" Kenji bit out harshly without preamble. "You would invade my _home_ , threaten my _family_?" He had clearly misjudged the proud man who stood before him.

"I would give my _life_ to protect your family," was the calm response.

Kenji frowned, feeling like he was missing something. "What are you doing here?" he asked again, this time more calmly.

"Ikuko-san," the boy had the decency to blush at the familiar address finally showing a bit of nerves. "She invited me. She has been kind enough to host a weekly dinner for Usako and I."

"Usako," Kenji repeated flatly, his gaze glancing back towards the kitchen. And his daughter was dancing nervously from foot to foot in the doorway as his wife patted her back reassuringly.

The father of two burst out laughing, relief flooding his form. He had completely misinterpreted the situation. Chiba wasn't there to threaten him at all. He smiled reassuringly at his daughter before turning his attention back to the teenaged boy behind him with a stonier expression.

A masked super heroe with powers threatening his family after Kenji had threatened, and even intended, to expose him was one thing. He had no clue how to deal with any of that.

But a teenage boy that wanted to date his daughter. Or rather, _was_ dating his daughter – he could handle that.

"You're Usagi's boyfriend," he declared with a manufactured disapproving frown.

And watched as the Chiba Mamoru stiffened once again in front of him. Kenji forced a cough to disguise the amused smile that wanted to bloom across his face.

He could _definitely_ handle this.

"Yes sir." 

"And how long have you been dating?"

"A few months."

And no doubt Ikuko had known of the relationship since almost the beginning, and had failed to mention it to him.

"Does she know?"

Mamoru opened his mouth, only to close it again. A hand thread through his hair revealing his discomfort.

"I… have only exposed her to the things about me that are normal for her," he finally said.

Kenji sighed with relief. Usagi was probably safer if she knew nothing of this paranormal world.

On the other hand, the girl was tough and didn't need someone who would be overly protective. She needed a partner – someone who saw her for the amazing girl that she was and trusted her with all of themselves. And he found himself frowning again.

"If you're serious about the relationship, you will have to tell her everything," he scolded.

Mamoru seemed taken aback for a moment, but then he smiled. "I know."

"How did you meet?"

"We met twice actually, on the same day. First… she had thrown away a test that she… uh was displeased with. And it hit me in the head. And then later that day, she had thrown herself into a situation she could not handle to protect her friend."

"Are you saying she was at a senshi battle?"

"I… uh…"

"You saved her, didn't you?"

The boy sighed, his midnight blue eyes darting towards the dining table again – this time Ikuko had Usagi settled and chatting away. Kenji glanced back at the boy to watch a small smile sweep across his chiseled features.

Mamoru nodded, for the first time admitting that he actually _was_ the masked vigilante.

"She's not just some damsel for you to save!" Kenji barked harshly.

The boy laughed, his eyes suddenly sparkling. "Trust me! She makes that _quite_ clear."

"You continue to surprise me Chiba Mamoru," Kenji offered, holding out his hand towards the young man.

Mamoru hesitated, but then shook it firmly. "Thank you Tsukino-san."

"Kenji," he corrected. "I feel we will be spending more time together." 

"Thank-you Kenji-san."

"You said you've been dating a few months? So, when I flashed my credentials yesterday?"

"I only let you in and told you what I did because I realized you were her father."

Kenji handed him the yellow envelope with a bow containing his finished article. It was just as well he had never turned it in to his editor. He had sentimentally wanted his wife to read it before anyone else. "I supposed I can't publish this now."

Mamoru opened the envelope, and read the first few lines of the story, his eyes opening wide in surprise.

"I would never put my daughter in danger to advance my career," he said by way of explanation. "And exposing you, could make her a target."

"I… I tried to stay away," Mamoru confided hastily. "I never wanted to put her in danger."

"She does have a way of wiggling past your defenses, and once she's there…" Kenji shrugged.

"It's impossible to let her go," the teenager agreed.

Kenji gestured for them to return to the table, and Mamoru was quick to comply. He did not miss his daughter entangling her fingers into the boy's own, when he took a seat next to her.

Ikuko had prepared dinner for him at his usual seat, but desserts placed at the other three table settings. He leaned over to her and offered a quick kiss on her cheek.

"What was that about?" she whispered.

"I'll explain later."

For now, he was content to listen to his daughter babble excitedly about the last date her boyfriend had taken her on, and to watch the boy in question blush in embarrassment at her doting attention.

He reached his free hand over to his wife's, remembering their own early stages of their relationship – when everything had been new and terrifyingly amazing.

Watching your daughter turn into a young woman wasn't so bad. Especially when she was so happy and had found a partner that clearly saw her and respected her, and well, the fact that he had a bit extra ability to keep her safe. That wasn't a bad thing either.

…

A/N: I really like the story arc of this one. The quality of writing is probably not up to my own standards. Too much talking heads in white rooms, BUT it's a one-shot and I have no energy these days… so I'm not going to obsess over these the way I do over my ongoing sagas. For the same reason, it is not beta read or approved. I hope you enjoy it regardless!

Feel free to send me reveal prompts here or on Tumblr!


	13. Theme 13: Disappointment

A/N:  
This is a yet another addition to the Tsukino family arc, though this one stands alone more than the others. In fact, I have no idea where it fits in the timeline. Wherever it fits in your head, I guess. Hope you enjoy!

…

 **Theme: Disappointment**

 **Title: Fallen Hero  
**

Shingo grumbled in frustration, pulling his fuzzy blanket over his head. His sister was still awake and she was talking to someone. Loudly. And had been for the last ten minutes.

He glanced at his clock; it was three in the morning!

Kami-sama! He was going to kill her. He had an exam tomorrow and then an outing planned with Mika. He didn't want to be a zombie. He wanted sleep!

But the murmuring didn't stop. The unintelligible words entered through his ears and intruded into his mind like an unwanted mole burrowing through the lawn.

He tossed the blanket aside and leapt to his feet, determined to give his idiot of a sister a piece of his sleep deprived brain.

The blond boy had intended to barrel through the door like he always did. But before he could, the words, suddenly understandable, floated through the slab of wood between them and froze him in his tracks.

"Usagi-chan, you can't expect Sailor Moon to be perfect all the time," the unfamiliar female voice entreated.

"But Luna, Ami almost got really hurt tonight. It would have been my fault. It would have been Sailor Moon's fault!"

Shingo slunk down to the ground, his back sliding against the wall. His head falling into his knees, his head spinning with the implications of what they were saying. He couldn't quite put it all together. He knew it was there. He knew beyond doubt, he didn't want to know, and yet he couldn't move.

"Ami-chan didn't get hurt."

"That was only because Minako was there…"

"Usagi-chan!" the voice barked back. "You did the best you could! No one can ask more of Sailor Moon than that."

"Luna, I don't want to be Sailor Moon anymore."

The tumbling mental puzzle pieces snapped into place with those words, and something in him broke. Shingo recoiled from the door as if it would burn him, wishing he had thought to flee just thirty seconds prior.

Shingo went back to his room, crashed onto the bed, and lay there frozen. Some moments later, he realized he was shaking, and was even more startled to realize there were tears forming at his eyes.

What was wrong with him? He shouldn't be crying. Throwing something? Absolutely. But tears?

Sleep eluded him. He tossed, turned, and thrashed angrily between his sheets and comforter, not trying to make sense of the emotions that bled from his form. He couldn't face them. He didn't want to face them.

He wanted to storm into Usagi's room, shake her senseless, and demand to know how it was that _she_ , of all people, could _dare_ to be his heroine.

And how could that heroine even consider wanting to throw in the towel?!

He had always looked up to Sailor Moon. She had shown determination, quick thinking, and bravery. To find out that she was just his pathetic excuse lazy stupid sister, that was… he didn't _know_ what it was, but it was _not_ okay!

The hours passed, but he didn't sleep.

His alarm eventually cut through the silent room, but he ignored it - didn't move a muscle to get out of bed or to turn off the blaring contraption.

"Shingo-kun?" his mother came in, turning off the ringing alarm, and immediately brought a hand to his face. "Are you alright?"

"Fine," he grumbled irritably. Her dark blue eyes searched his own as if she could detect his falsehood through line of sight alone. He turned away from her motherly concern.

"You need to get up, or you'll be late for school," she admonished before sweeping out of the room.

He lay there unmotivated for five more minutes before he started at the banging on his door.

"Shingo-baka! Wake up, and get your lazy butt down here! Breakfast is ready!"

And then he was livid. _Usagi_ was calling _him_ lazy?! Talk about hypocrisy! He tore out of bed and ripped open the door, determined to give her a piece of his mind, but the thundering from the end of the hall told him she was already halfway down the stairs.

He slammed his door closed again, clutching his head in both hands, and forced himself to get dressed. He sullenly joined the whole family at the kitchen table and picked aimlessly at his pancakes.

"If you don't want those, I'm happy to take them off your hands," Usagi invited gleefully, prodding his plate with her own utensils.

He shoved his plate violently away, sending the pancakes flying to the floor below. "Usagi-baka!" he screeched angrily.

"Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning," his sister observed dryly, going back to her own food, as he scrambled to clean up the sticky mess on the floor.

"It's your fault!" he screamed at her.

"It is not!" she hurled back. "I never actually touched your food. You're the one that…"

"Kami-sama! You're such a moron!" he interrupted. "You are such a glutton, you never finish your chores or your homework," he lambasted. Refusing to acknowledge the glassy quality of her eyes, his verbal assault continued. "Not that studying would do you any good because your brain clearly doesn't work! It's no wonder that…"

"Shingo!" his mother cut in harshly. "What has gotten into you?"

His blue eyes shot to his mother's in surprise, and his anger that had boiled over was suddenly doused by embarrassment and shame.

"Sorry, Mom," Shingo said, quite calmly.

"It is never okay to use those hurtful words or that tone with a member of this family. We will discuss this later. Right now, you need to hurry up or you'll be late to school."

After breakfast, Usagi followed him back to his room.

"Leave me alone, baka!" he hissed at her, as he moved to collect his homework and briefcase.

She ignored him, instead invading the sanctuary of his bedroom, hovering behind him with fidgeting hands.

"Why are you so pissed at me?" she demanded to know. "What did I do?"

He threw his hands up, dropping his school bag with a loud thud. "You _exist_!" he seethed, not able to bring himself to call her out on her secret identity.

He tried to ignore the hurt that flashed across her face, but it haunted him for the rest of the day. It wasn't _really_ her fault. Except that it completely _was_!

Sailor Moon was strong, powerful, and seemingly, undefeatable. She faced every enemy and threat with determination and sheer stubbornness, never hesitating to stand between the defenseless and evil.

His sister, on the other hand, wanted to give up – like she did with _everything_ that was hard.

That night he woke up to the sound of Usagi's window sliding open. Seconds later, the sound of her soft landing on the grass below broke the night's stillness.

Did she have to get up and sneak out every night?

He lay awake, watching the clock, agonizing over every second she was gone. A long, fitful hour passed. He only drew breath easily again when he heard her form fall gracelessly back into her bed with a loud "thump!"

He was hardly surprised when she didn't wake up in the morning. Kami-sama knew, he didn't want to get up either, and he hadn't even had the excuse of fighting off who knew what.

Three days later, he caught her drooling across a page of English verb conjugations. She hadn't even started the worksheet.

He snorted in derision. Or he tried to, but it came out more as a moan of sympathy. He didn't wake her.

Another week went by and he found a blood-soaked hand towel buried underneath various other articles of trash in their shared bathroom. He would've missed it completely had it not been for the fact that the piece of cloth had bled upward, staining toilet paper rolls and discarded tissue.

He picked up the offending hand towel without any thought for sanitation, and stormed into her room again with his evidence in hand.

"Are you okay?" he demanded.

"Since when did you care?" she snapped back, her blue eyes sparking with barely suppressed hurt and rage.

"Did you get hurt?" he pressed again, undeterred by her hostility, holding up the bloody rag.

Her eyes widened at the sight of the stained towel, and her mouth opened slightly, searching for words.

"Uh… don't be silly," she finally stammered, turning away from him and back to her desk. "I'm fine. It's just… that time of the month. I had to… uh… clean up some blood."

She was lying.

He almost said so, but then what else was she going to do? Of course she was lying. Superheroes had to keep their secret identity. Even from those they loved. Maybe _especially_ from those they loved. He wondered how badly she was hurt. How often did it happen? How many times had he missed it, or poked her chest during their normal squabbles and maybe exacerbated an old wound or bruise?

Being a superhero was supposed to be fun. Easy. You got magic powers, and you were able to defeat terrible monsters.

But it was also waking up in the middle of the night, hiding injuries, never sharing your stress with anyone, and being constantly ridiculed for falling short in lots of other aspects of your life.

No wonder she didn't want to be Sailor Moon anymore. The job clearly sucked!

He stared at her back, finally seeing her in a completely new light. She was Sailor Moon, defender of love and justice, _and_ she was his carefree annoying sister.

"Did you need something else?" she asked softly, a crack in her voice.

Kami-sama! Was she crying? Had he made her cry?

Normally, he would have taken great pleasure in being able to upset her, as she vexed him to no end. But now... now, his gut writhed uncomfortably in his abdomen. He wanted to be sick.

"Nothing," he said, just as softly. And he quickly retreated back to the isolation of his own room, where he didn't have to watch her falling to pieces because of whatever trauma she had to face and then couldn't share.

Two days later, he heard their mother grumbling about Usagi neglecting her chores. Her own laundry from her room hadn't been collected and the bathroom they shared was far from clean.

Shingo rolled his eyes at the complaint. Didn't their mother know that Usagi had _far_ more important things to worry about than _stupid household chores_?!

So when his mother went out to do some grocery shopping, he slipped into his sister's room, trying not to think about how angry she would be at his presence, and started tidying things up himself. He collected all the scattered clothes and organized her desk, making sure not to touch anything that she would label as personal or forbidden to him.

He moved onto the bathroom, scrubbing away at the bathtub, toilet and sink. And if he spent more time on the details than he did when he was assigned the task himself, no one would really think about why. He certainly didn't understand it himself.

It took another day for her blonde silhouette to darken his open doorway.

"Did you clean the bathroom?" she asked, the surprise oozing from her voice.

He didn't turn to her.

"I might have," he shrugged noncommittally. Maybe he should have asked their mom to take credit for the task. Usagi probably assumed she took up the slack initially and had asked her about it first.

"But it was my turn," she objected.

He shrugged again. "You seemed busy. I don't want to bathe in filth," he grumbled.

"But then, what about my room? Why did you clean my room?"

He stared at her, his mouth open searching for a plausible explanation. "I… umm…" but he just shrugged again, and offered her a small smile.

How did _she_ come up with explanations so quickly, and on the fly, all the time to explain her disappearances and random injuries, anyway?

She ruffled his hair affectionately, the way he couldn't stand. He chased her hand away with an irritated grunt.

"Well thank you kid, you would not believe how much easier you made my night. It was a nice surprise."

He smiled. "You're welcome," he said sincerely.

Startled eyes jumped towards him. "I take it, you've forgiven me for whatever I did?"

"I did."

"You ever gonna clue me in?"

That depended on whether or not she ever clued him in of her own volition.

"Probably not."

" _Whatever_! I just wanted to say thanks," she said as she turned to leave.

"Just don't get used to it!" he called after her with a scowl. "I have better things to do than your chores!" Because he couldn't help it. She was still his obnoxious annoying sister, even if she was also his heroine.

…

A/N: The idea for this one came from that same brainstorming session with FloraOne!

And special shout out to TinaCentury for being the best beta ever and helping make my writing better in a bunch of little ways! And she did this one superfast! I was super impressed and grateful! (I think she just likes the reveals!)


	14. Theme 14: Worry

A/N: A generic reveal for the MamoUsa Week 2019 on Tumblr! I think it's fun! Hopefully you do too!

I didn't get this done in time for a beta, so please forgive typos.

…

 **Theme: Worry**

 **Title: Word Vomit**

This wasn't the first time a senshi battle had made the news, though their exploits tended to get covered in the tabloids far more often, but this time there was a video. Apparently, that meant it was taken more seriously and far harder to dismiss.

Usagi hated it.

It was all anyone was talking about. It was every screen. The ones on the street that usually showed ads or pop stars singing, now played the senshi video in slow motion. Her parents and Shingo were watching it this morning in abject horror. Even the televisions at the Crown that were usually showing some baseball game or Sumo wrestling match, had been taken over by the senshi footage.

And honestly, that wouldn't have been so awful if it had shown the senshi kicking some youma ass. But it didn't. It was a battle where Sailor Moon had tripped, fallen on her face, and then the rest of her team got hit trying to cover for her. Jupiter and Mars had both suffered significant injuries, which was on the film. Tuxedo Kamen had saved all of them by distracting the creature long enough for the five senshi to strategically retreat. The youma, now unchecked, had attacked dozens of civilians and thrashed three buildings downtown.

All of _that_ had been captured on film.

The senshi had regrouped, formed a game plan, executed it flawlessly even with two injured members, and dispatched the youma. Sailor Moon had even healed the injured civilians, though she couldn't do anything about the buildings. But of course, none of _that_ was featured in the video.

Instead she had to watch herself make a stupid and incredibly embarrassing mistake over and over while the rest of the city looked on and offered critique. She sighed, pushed her half-eaten milkshake away, and let her head fall into her arms. Not even Motoki's treats could cheer her up today.

"What's got you down Odango?"

She lifted her head just long enough to give the upper classman an unhappy frown as she pointed to the video on loop being analyzed by talking heads that had no doubt never seen a moment of any kind of combat.

"I wouldn't worry," he assured her softly. "I'm sure they are all okay."

She bolted upright, and stared at Mamoru in surprise. He didn't say anything else. Just took slow sips of his steaming coffee, his attention on the video playing on screen.

"What?" she finally managed. Was he not judging the senshi the same as every other citizen in Tokyo?

"Things go south quite often in battles, but afterwards Sailor Mercury usually patches them all up. I'm certain they are all fine, and Tokyo will be back to worshipping their senshi vigilantes as soon as the next monster strikes unexpectedly."

She could not handle the cognitive dissonance.

"How do you know that?" she demanded, leaning towards him in her urgency.

"The news cycle is short. Scandals typically blow over in a day or two."

"Not that part," she corrected shortly. "How do you know that Sailor Mercury patches up the senshi after battles?"

"I've witnessed a battle or two," he turned to her and shrugged nonchalantly as if it was no big deal.

But it was a huge deal! Suddenly, Sailor Moon's embarrassing failure was the last thing on her mind. "You have?" Usagi questioned, trying to hide the urgency with which she needed to know. She simply couldn't handle the idea of him being in danger. "Don't you know that's dangerous?"

"Worried about me Odango?" he bantered back with that stupid superior smile. "I didn't realize you cared."

"No one deserves to be subjected to a youma," she insisted emphatically. "Not even you."

"Relax Odango," Mamoru assured. "It's not like I'm throwing myself headfirst into battle."

She sighed with relief, and turned back to her milkshake if only to have something to do with her hands before he realized how upset she had actually been.

"I only go when I'm needed," he added under his breath. He probably didn't think she could hear him over the noise of the arcade.

But just like that her heart was racing again. She whirled him around to face her. "Mamoru-kun! This is serious! You can't go seeking out senshi battles. Promise me you won't."

He smiled at her. "You _do_ care," he observed.

"Promise me!" she demanded.

"I don't go looking for them, Odango. I just kind've stumble onto them…"

"What are you talking about Mamoru-baka? I've _never_ seen you at a battle."

He looked at her in confusion. "I would hope you had never been to one…" he whispered. "I mean, I know you're a magnet for trouble and perhaps a bit obsessed with Sailor Moon and Tuxedo Kamen both, but I would think that even _you_ had more sense than that."

"I… umm, yeah," she agreed too quickly as she realized her mistake. "I've never been to a battle. Never been even within a hundred meters of one."

"When have you been to a battle?" he asked, his tone sharp with anxiety as hers had been moments before.

"What are you talking about? I _just_ said I had never been to one!" she defended.

"You were _clearly_ back-tracking!" he whisper-shouted, leaning too close into her space.

"What about you?" she countered, not at all intimidated. "You just said that you stumble into them!"

Two sets of blue eyes threatened to drill holes into one another, but they both remained silent having arrived at an impasse.

Usagi's mind spun, trying to make sense of what he'd just said. He said he stumbled into battles, he clearly had been to enough of them to know how they recovered, that he went when he was _needed_. There was really only one explanation that made sense.

"You're Tuxedo-Kamen!" she concluded excitedly.

His hands covered her mouth rapidly. "Could you be any louder about it Odango?" he hissed.

Her own hands clamped over her his on her mouth, in horror at her lack of discretion. "Sorry!"

They both glanced nervously around. It didn't _seem_ like anyone was listening. When no one charged up demanding answers, and certainly no reporters with cameras appeared to harass them, Usagi allowed herself to relax. But Mamoru was still stiff - his hand clutched urgently on her wrist.

"It's okay, Mamoru-baka," she said, peeling his hand away. "I'm not going to tell anyone."

"Because you're so good at keeping secrets!"

The sarcasm hurt. More than it should have really. She definitely wore her heart on her sleeve and she was a scatter-brained clumsy mess most of the time.

The video of Sailor Moon tripping on a fucking crack in the sidewalk - not from anything the youma had actually thrown at her - stole her attention.

"You're right," she conceded, her voice as small as she felt in that moment. "I'm just a clumsy screw up who can't be relied upon, even when it matters."

She stood up, unable to meet his eyes as she gathered her briefcase, and turned to leave. But his hand was on her wrist again. She stared at it in confusion.

"Wait, don't go," he entreated, pulling her back to the seat. "You weren't worried about the senshi earlier, were you?"

She stared at him for a moment, forcing her fight or flight instincts to chill. She knew she shouldn't engage in this line of questioning. That just because she knew who he was didn't mean that she had to give herself up. That's what Luna would say anyway. But his thumb was tracing comforting little circles on the inside of her wrist, that he had still not released, and she _really_ didn't want to leave him - not like this anyway.

"No," she conceded.

"You were embarrassed?"

She hung her head. He already knew. Kami-sama, she was such a mess, and now he knew that went even further than usual hurricane that was Tsukino Usagi. Especially since he had _the_ front row seat to all her screw ups as a senshi too.

"Hey," he said softly, his thumb still caressing her bare skin. "Sailor Moon has _nothing_ to be embarrassed about."

She looked up then, and trembled at the sincerity and vulnerability she saw pouring from the cobalt-blue eyes before her.

"Sailor Moon has won every single time. She's _never_ been defeated. Not _once_. No matter how many times she falls, she _always_ gets back up."

"She's had a lot of practice," she mumbled.

He laughed. It was a sound as warm as the sun. And pulled her into his arms. And somehow, it felt even better when she wasn't afraid for her life at the same time.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"For what?"

"For saying all that. It was nice of you."

"I didn't say it to be nice," he interjected with a slight frown. "I said it because it was true."

She shrugged. "And for always helping me to stand back up."

She removed his soothing hand from her wrist again, but instead of pulling away, she interlaced their fingers and looked up with a small smile.

His fingers tightened around hers as he smiled back. They had each other both in and out of the costume.

It was the best feeling in the world.

…

A/N: Hope to have one more reveal this week for a different theme and two other short stories/drabbles that will probably be added onto my Box of Chocolates Fic. We will see! Wish me luck!

You can also find me on Tumblr under the same name - kasienda.

Reviews are love!


	15. Theme 15: Kiss

A/N: Another piece for MamoUsa Week 2019. Today's theme is First Kiss!

FloraOne helped me out with this one because she is the Sailor Moon Fan Fiction Fairy Godmother (as accurately dubbed by TinaCentury)!

… 

**Theme: Kiss**

Usually it was Sailor Moon that was stumbling around barely dodging projectiles. Today it was Tuxedo Kamen. Really Sailor Moon would have been better off, not to mention far far safer, if he had skipped this one altogether.

He had only a moment to enjoy her arms circled around his waist, before she violently shoved him out of the path of what must have been the youma's tenth blast aimed for him. He landed on the ground. On his side. Hard. She danced around his prone form, and shot off her own counterattack over his top hat.

The attack landed beautifully, pinning the malicious creature between Venus's light and Mars's fire. Her senshi guardians made short work of the beast.

Confident they were out of danger, he allowed himself to flop completely to the ground, lying spread eagle on the cement – torn between laughing at himself and screaming in frustration. That was just the kind of day it had been.

Sailor Moon was kneeling at his side a second later, her face crumpled into a concerned frown.

"I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to hurt you!" she gushed urgently, shifting back and forth and wringing her hands as she hovered over him.

He stared at her compelling swirling eyes. "Hurt me?" he repeated dumbly. Kami-sama, is that what she thought?

"Sailor Moon, calm down!" Venus called, an amused smirk in her voice. "You totally saved his ass! And he _knows_ it!"

"Are you okay?" the blonde at his side asked gently, ignoring her friend's teasing.

"Thanks to you," his whispered back, "no more than my ego suffered any harm."

She offered him a hand. He took it gratefully, and her strength sent him surging back to his feet. She gave him so much momentum that he stumbled forward into her arms, and she was steadying him once again.

They both looked up at the same time, and he found himself hypnotized by her kind eyes that swirled with feelings he could not identify. Her face hung only centimeters away from his.

He cleared his throat. "Thank you for saving me this time."

She smiled, bringing a brightness to her eyes. Her gaze darted to his mouth. Before he could react, she leaned forward, and her strawberry-red lips met his own.

Feeling shocked and unprepared for the eleventh time that evening, he didn't immediately respond to her feathery light touch. But just as she started to pull away, he leaned into her wanting to share her life breath for a split second longer, to taste the sweetness of her lips, to revel in the warmth that flooded his being like he had finally come home. He hadn't realized he had been lost until she found him.

"You're welcome," she whispered.

Before he recovered she was gone, leaving him standing alone staring into the empty dark night. The cold air penetrated through his tuxedo and cape and brought him back to himself. How had she vanished so quickly? Is that what it felt like every time he disappeared into the night like smoke?

A full nine hours of sleep, and his normal morning routine were not enough to break him from the haze that Sailor Moon's soft touch had left him in. He was _still_ thinking about the encounter sixteen hours later. He traced his own lips for the fifteenth time with a finger absently, wondering when he might see the Lunar Guardian again.

A high-pitched scream of a child in distress pulled him from his musings. He looked up to see a boy no older than ten attacking another child around the same age.

He moved to intervene, but Usagi was already there - standing in front of the small boy who cradled his hand.

"Juichi-kun!" she scolded. "I've told you before, this park is here for everyone. Aki-kun has as much a right to climb these trees as you do. You can't attack anyone who refuses to adhere to your sign!" she shouted righteously, pointing to a cardboard sign that declared trespassers forbidden. "Do you understand?" she finished with her hands on her hips.

The kid stared back at her defiantly.

Usagi took a step forward, righteous anger pouring from her petite frame.

The boy scowled, panting furiously, but Mamoru was pleased to see the child eventually give a slow nod.

Usagi turned back to the injured boy. "Are you okay?"

While her back was turned, the first boy charged her.

Mamoru took three bounding leaps to close the remaining distance between them and took the blow. If he had been closer, he might have been able to deflect it entirely, but as it was he just absorbed the head butt with a grunt, even as they both went sprawling to the ground.

Usagi whirled back around. "Are you kidding me?! Juichi-kun! Come back here!"

But his attacker was already running off.

"Leave him," Mamoru stated, rising to his own feet.

She eyed him for a moment before turning her attention to the injured child. "Aki-kun, I think your wrist might be broken. You should go to a doctor."

"Let me take a look," Mamoru suggested. He kneeled down and took the wrist in his hands, channeling just a bit of golden energy. Usagi was right - the wrist was fractured in two places. "I think it's just dislocated," he lied. "It may hurt a bit for a second, but I can pop it back into place. Would you be okay with that… Aki-kun, was it?"

The boy nodded.

Mamoru made a show of pivoting the wrist slowly - the boy biting his lower lip. Mamoru channeled more healing energy and sealed the tiny wrist bones back together. "See there! It's as good as new!"

The boy moved his own hand experimentally, and his face bloomed into a relieved smile. "Thank you!" he beamed at Mamoru before he turned to Usagi. "Thank you Usagi-chan!"

"Of course, Aki-kun," Usagi acknowledged with a smile. "Now, go play!"

Mamoru smiled, watching the kid run off. He turned to see Usagi considering him, something almost familiar about the concern in her eyes.

"Are you okay?" she asked. "You're bleeding." She brought his arm to her face, scrutinizing the scrape on his elbow.

He laughed. "I've had far worse."

"You didn't need to take that hit," she chastised gently, dabbing at the wound with her own handkerchief. "I had it under control."

"I have no doubt," he said sincerely. "Maybe I just wanted to feel useful."

"He was just a kid."

"A kid with a nasty temper."

"His parents have been fighting," the blonde girl confided. "He is just looking for someone to lash out at."

"Better at me, than you," he told her with a grin.

"My hero," she said sarcastically. "Thank you for saving me," she added more softly.

Looking back, he didn't know what he was thinking. Perhaps, the encounter paralleled the battle the evening before too closely. Perhaps, he was _still_ obsessing over a kiss shared with another righteous heroine in his life. Perhaps he wasn't thinking at all.

He just leaned forward and kissed her.

She froze in shock for a moment. And he regretted the move. He should've asked for permission or something. He had no right.

But then, she was kissing him back. And he shared her air, he tasted the warmth of her lips, he felt so safe and accepted in her care. He felt like he was home.

 _Again._

She pulled away and his eyes opened slowly. They stared at each other in shock.

Sailor Moon hadn't been his first kiss. He knew that everyone was different. But this wasn't. If he closed his eyes it felt exactly the same.

The silence stretched between them like an endless chasm. He needed to say something. Anything! It didn't matter what.

"You're welcome?" he offered, in reference to her original thank you. But he felt uncertain. She had been much better at this the night before.

The silence stretched out between them again like a canyon.

"Sailor Moon?" he prompted. It was foolish to address her as such when they were both out in the open like this, but he had to know. And his mind would tolerate no delays.

She tensed, her eyes opened even wider with her incredulity. It was all the confirmation he needed. He reached out and took her hand, terrified she would run from him.

He need not have worried. She brushed a lock of raven hair from his eyes.

"Tuxedo Kamen?" she asked, quiet and uncertain.

He nodded.

She stared at him, as unmoving and blank as a white board. She didn't even blink! He tried hard not to fidget. And just when he was ready to bolt convinced his identity was mortally offensive, she melted and came alive.

"Oh my god! You just _kissed_ me!" she screeched.

He smirked. "I did."

"Tuxedo-Kamen and Mamoru-baka are the same person! He is _you_ and you kissed _me_!"

"You started it!"

"I - I…" she stammered, and then her face lit up brighter than a full moon. "I totally did, didn't I? I didn't think I could pull off something that cool."

He squeezed her hand, and pulled her closer. "You were beyond amazing last night. I was a mess."

Her smile softened, but somehow felt even more intimate. Like it was meant only for him.

"Well, that's okay," she assured, caressing the side of his face with two fingers. "You were kind've an adorable mess."

"An adorable mess?" he repeated, not sure he liked the description.

She shrugged, her smile growing in intensity exponentially as the distance between them narrowed further. "It's not like I have room to talk. I'm usually the mess."

He shook his head, disagreeing. "You are not…"

But she interrupted him.

And he was lost once again.

Or rather the opposite.

He was found. She had found him.

And he was home.

...

A/N: I plan to have another short piece out for MamoUsa tomorrow for the Fight/Make-up Theme, but it will appear in my Box of Chocolates series instead of here because it's not a reveal. I think I may also have one for Saturday, but it's way less fleshed out at the moment, so we'll see.

You can also find me on Tumblr under the same name - kasienda.

Reviews are love!


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